Book Of Life Poem by Bernedita Rosinha Pinto

I am not your enemy or friend,
I am not your benefactor or destroyer,
I am not your master or your servant,
you are all these of your own will;
I have no gains in your condemnation,
I have no pains in your evaluations;
the mistakes of your thoughts
are your own mis-calculations,
the blunders of your heart
are your own failed emotions;
none can empty the cup of your rage
that is filled up to the brim of your mind,
none can discard the robe of hostility
that wraps your body with despair,
you have to know yourself-
the depth, the height
the breadth, the width
of your own footage, your own coverage
while you traverse this world:
for you are the maker of your own destiny;
though your journey originates from a cradle
the end is the book you write of yourself:
your own narrations, your own accounts,
your own explanations, your own justifications-
whether you deserve the freedom of your soul
or whether you don't deserve eternal tranquility.