The struggle with self consumes, consumes.
Its manifestation sings
That a dream on the wing is a phenomenal thing
But honesty's bleeding, stings.

It entails a depth of purpose,
Entails the breadth of sight,
Encompasses all with faith, I recall,
Seeing once, in the dead of the night.

Perhaps it's all misleading,
And seemingly so contrite
But the thing I find deceiving is the absence of believing
And it galls me so, despite.

Of course there's contradiction
Which man maintains his path
Erratic-ism calls...yet that, further galls,
And prompts...my bitter laugh!

The cynic in me vacillates
The inner fool now writhes
And through it all, in abrupt recall,
.....I feel I'm fed a pack of lies!

M.
20 August 2020