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A Left, Two Rights and a Final Left
Stand before the truth of your desire and submit yourself,
Naked for the truth only we can give ourselves, ask,
“Does love take on risk or merely challenge the notion to prove its existence?”
Rhetoric is the answer provided as predetermined by western alcohol.
Each step brings a spectacular failure with heartbeat rapidly increased,
All seven sins are the realities from which no saint will deliver me,
Logic and reason provide the safest death of a dream,
Stealing a glance into the windows of a soul my fate is sealed.
The road north is clogged with rioters armed of strong doubt,
Anger is not their weapon of choice, but a loss of comfort.
Four seasons move quickly before me as the struggle ends,
Turning to the west the heart sinks knowing the goal moves further away.
Strength is poured into me from the invisible steel with caressing hands,
Tears of pain are needed to give motion in order to feel the blue and green.
Turning north again gives sweet comfort to a heart spilt from agony.
Soul overrides body, tames the brain and turns to the east, praying for salvation.
Confidence shaken but not splintered, each step east gives more traction than last,
The shine of a promise of an under served blessing shakes away the black.
Every moment passed now is one more closer to that feeling of renewal,
Will the sun dawn on a soul made whole by the reason of madness?
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