Why is it in this world,
That we build our love on hate,
And we build our hate on love.

Why is it,
That we strive to have,
To keep,
To take to get all these material gains.

Why is it in our hearts,
That we blame our lack of change on traditions,
But fail to see the tradition of change.

Why are our hearts closed in this world that should be open?

I am a tangled mess of wired emotions,
That flow on out from, haywire.

Ill-conceived, hapless use of my tentacles,
Connecting and disconnecting all the while.

Incorrigible, orchestrated rythm I follow,
Guilty as charged of culpable suicide.

Limited edition amongst an otherwise limitless species,
Slowly marching towards a spiritual demise.

Austere with my principles, I am
An embodiment of selfless grace.

Happy to readily disagree, I am
Also the pleasant sunshine in your face.

Punity dissolved upon your manners,
You won't find me dictating terms,

Yet the tangled mess of wires afront me,
Is untangled at a surly pace _


Unravelling lines to withdraw my mind,
Impromptu creation awaits.

The mess inside has been aligned,
I arrive at clarity's gates.

Today !