Confusion is King inside my brain,
this serpentine uncertainty driving me insane,
Bidding me think about things I can’t fathom,
down the slopes of my mind myriad mysteries slalom.
Why can’t I relax and let all things be one,
and rest infantine whilst the sands of time run.
These over which I digress, yes, I confess,
may appear arcane to the naked eye…
but they tear me wide open, magnify my cry:
“How! When! Why!”, and more lately “Who!”,
and, of course, the ubiquitous “What should I do?”.
They flood like tsunami through my minds eye,
and shelter eludes me, no matter how much I try.
But I’ll opt for confusion over ignorance…
I may never see clearly, but I must take the chance,
Theres no fate like being sedate, not even seeming crazy,
and I’d rather be smashed than let apathy plague me,.
As long as i’m conscious my mind will meander,
unnuterable things i’ll yet dare to ponder…
to the land of the living i’ll cast my eyes, yonder!
If in time they find but the bonfire,
which is fueled with the fools who never looked higher,
and I vanish mere flesh on a funeral pyre,
the quest of the ages abandoned in the mire,
will my dream endure, my spirit survive,
or will the burning bush within me just wither and die?
Perhaps this is best buried, concealed and unspoken,
And history will render this mission mistaken,
my hearts not to be healed, but to remain cracked and broken…
but no! to whom who knocks the door is thrown open,
and theres a voice in my soul that screams we’re all chosen,
if we only respond to the whispering call,
we emerge from the shadow and rise from the fall.
Dichotomy dominates within this heart,
a fairy-tale fracture has ripped it apart,
shattered, split, like the road that we travel,
riven with riddles time will never unravel.
In the abundance of sunshine will my tyrants shiver?
Will I bask in the truth and flow the way of the river,
which returns to the ocean whence it has come,
to the fountain of life, will my soul return?
Or will I slip beneath the sea, like a long-lost craft of myth,
washed up on the shore like some nomadic cosmic drift?
alone like an island of darkness adrift on the ocean of night
or ablaze like a scepter of gold, refined in the fires of the light?
Sometimes I wish I could leave it all behind,
take flight from the ghosts and the phantoms in my mind,
find the simple life, in far from simple times,
way beyond this desert in some forgotten fertile climes,
abandon the days of splendour and starvation,
where the decadence of my heart is my brothers deprivation,
and the fires of opulence roast the elite,
whilst motherless children lie rent in the street.
But this unbearable heat, who can resist?
ignore the raging flames of rhinestone bliss?
in the cauldron of the heart the echo persists:
Should I indulge my every wish?
or should I seek the horizon I long to be true,
and cast the serpents bounty askew?
And thus lies the origin of the primal confusion:
in the garden of truth, I have long loved illusion.