THOSE FATEFUL WORDS, “What do you lack?” spark an inner monologue about all that I have lost. No more boundless optimism, no more faith in greater powers, too much pain, too much grief, and too much disillusion. Despite all that, I realize the great irony that although I now believe only in the exchange of love, even that little faith follows the childhood reflex that “I was brought up to believe.”
I was brought up to believe
Belief has failed me now
The bright glow of optimism
Abandoned me somehow
Belief has failed me now
Life goes from bad to worse
No philosophy consoles me
In a clockwork universe
Life goes from bad to worse
I still choose to live
Find a measure of love and laughter
And another measure to give
I still choose to live
And give, even while I grieve
Though the balance tilts against me
I was brought up to believe
