Blame leaks through
As our fingers trace
The mind’s lineage
Crossing ancient lines
Stopping in the past
At karma’s doorstep
Where all blame rests
For the logic to hold
We can’t be picky
As the door opens
To our achievements
Sharing the same plate
In the mind’s kitchen
Praise can be sticky
A temporary window
Where the ego breathes
Making the fingers retreat
As they grasp the spoils
No longer leaking blame
Blame. A poem.
Blame leaks through our fingers into the world.
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