If only he had listened

In the school yard the young boy stood,

After confession – Irish priest – lacquer wood,

A light and you came and said to listen,

Listen to me you said and all life shall glisten.

However and instead he turned – your voice he did not trust,

Grew into an arrogant Gypsy and looked at women with lust,

Which in the good book of Mathew you say is a sin,

The righteous man lost and your wisdom in a bin.

The too many woman turned him to drink,

In their confused chatter he could not think,

Was unable to hear your voice for all that chatter,

A glorious life was lost in wanton clatter.

Until you came and injected the Jungian cure,

Your voice then returned was heard clear and pure,

He is now one and only to you listens,

His life now pure and finally his world glistens.



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