Why art thou in epiphany
if nothing the matter.
Why art thou in duality
if indeed your moulds were monolithe.
Why the limelight lust
if you loathe the transient.
Why the fixation on virtue
despite witnessing the grey.
Why the crown of glory
if in fact your ways were dispassionate.
Why the snub of thoughts
when art your niche an extempore.
Why the fondled dreams
whilst your deep slumber.
Why the anchored stance
when art your thoughts a meanderer.
Why the preemptive panic
when ought the knowing to be.
Why the safe havens
whilst your spirits take flight.
Why the hope for oneself
when selfless thou art to be.
Why the bondage of time
when timeless your visons be.
Why the glaze of silence
where peals of laughter ought to be.
Why the fear of unknown
where the faith in your leaps be.
Why the peek into the mirror
when clear the rivers flee.
Why the slurry of actions
where intent ought to be.
