The middle path is the hardest road for a man to walk with grace
I’ve spent my life in a cold dark cell or else, well, lost in space
My heart full of peace, harmony, love, greeting each one with a smile
Or hanging out down on Hooligan Street with O.J., Erik and Lyle
People would say as I traveled their way, “There goes John; he’s sober and chaste.”
Or else they would point as I lit up my joint and say, “There goes John; what a waste.”
A fit vegetarian, healthy of frame, living on sunlight and seeds
Or making my way down to Tom’s Number 5 to score a cheeseburger with speed
Then back in A.A., at least for a day, with a promise never to swerve
Or down a dark alley, syringe in my arm, determined to fry that last nerve
It’s a struggle, my friends, to live a moderate life when your personality leans to extremes
Some said it was youth but to tell you the truth, I think that it’s mostly my genes
Nevertheless moderation’s my goal; my resolve is unsurpassed
(Hope springs eternal in the heart of a man who refuses to learn from his past)
Still this is my row, though it’s a hard one to hoe, and I frequently feel God’s wrath
When I come to that three-tined fork in the road, I’ll head for the middle path
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Somewhat heartbreaking, but clearly understood. Hopefully one day, brain research will change how we look at and treat addiction!
Freedompath
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July 5, 2018
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