It

It has been with me for as long
As I could remember
And it is stubborn
It persists with a mind of its own

It carries my name and even
My Self in its various forms
It has no inclination to hide
Nor be discreet in its manifestation

It controls me
Surreptitiously vain
Yet it conquers in intriguingly small
And innocuous strides

It beats just as fast and as heavy
As my heart but never
With the same fervor and urgency
Required to keep me alive

It is there.
Heaving.
Instructing.
Directing.

Encore

There is a very simple remedy
To the sickness of a soul; though imperfect
And probably subtle in its course
But I shall tell you nonetheless.

Listen to the dirt
That clings to the damp soles of your shoes
For they have; probably unintentionally
Learned your destiny

For they comprehend the weight
That you carry
Upon your shoulders; and perhaps even
The gravity of your offenses

One must also seek guidance from
The dirt that settles 'neath one's nails
For they have; probably unintentionally
Learned your fate

For they understand
The gravity of your offenses
And the frailty of your grip
The stories of those that you have held; and lost.