They asked me if I had a type
predicate for desire’s aim
that filter through which life strains
beauty in its purest vein

I responded that mirrors lie
while sight assures who I should be
reflections through imagery
assuring more than I enfold

evidence fits the puzzle’s face
repetition by each day
once again conviction states
it’s not madness to believe

in the end I may love myself
through surrogates of loveliness
statements of the sincere views
who I’d be if I were true.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180204.