Colin F. Jones


We are hollow men who love ourselves,
But self respect counts for so much more,
For in a hollow seed nothing dwells,
As in the craters formed by war.

We are not born for ourselves to love,
But to love others for whom we care,
To nurture those whom we create,
That with their own they learn to share.

Our instincts are to live; survive!
Add more blossoms to the tree.
That’s why we keep the will alive,
To be the one they like us to be.

We are born to fear; to be afraid,
It helps us to endure,
The hardships of which life is made,
That we become much less unsure.

We each push on to do our best,
For those we feel responsible for;
Sometimes we leave an empty nest,
Due to foul disease or war.

But we all seek to love another,
More than we love ourselves,
Be it an offspring or a Mother,
Or a spirit casting spells.

Despite ourselves we seek to care,
For those to whom we give life,
The son the daughter with whom we share,
A love as a man and wife.

So I would rather think of you, not me,
That you know I appreciate you as a friend,
For that’s the way it’s meant to be,
And on my truth you can depend.