SPURNED

It’s a wise man who knows what is enough.

That wise man will know

On tumultuous days,

On days when the world goes wrong

When questionable virtue ascends

And good men wring their hands,

Fortunes fail,

Scum comes to the top

Visible , filthy, corrupt,

That, on a beach, empty of anyone,

Not where watchers go,

But wild and dangerous,

Where the tide rips kill you

And ebbs slide faster than snakes,

And waders ply cautiously the surf,

There is enough,

And will build there a fire

To warm against winter whipping the dunes,

Will start by looking long at the desolate beach

Seeing nothing but hopelessness

Then with a rummaging eye

Spot this small twig, this dry marram, this weathered shard

Till spark and fire are made, fanned, and warm the cold soul.

He will find enough to do this

Knowing what is enough.