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Poem
As I arise and fresh aspire
to seek that which, in men, inspire,
with each new light, of each new day, 
I still by will and night's display,
again, have lost my way. 

I claim that all is lost within 
infinity's infinity; 
a vacant space of cold uncertainty.

For were I not this man I see,
reflected, in the dimness of the glass
and had the features of a creature I 
might choose; a bear, a snail, a peacock's tail, 
or mighty tiger's jungle muse, 
then surely I would take the form
of one - and from the human run - 
away from daily reasoned doubt 
which shares man's vain and selfish shelf,
and so become engaged within my preternatural self.

The morning light still reaches not the black 
and vast eternal void: where man is cast 
at last, in vain, to claim by reason's bane, 
a purpose stated, never named, 
dissected from such flimsy source
as Freud or Joyce or God, of course!

If I as creature be too dumb 
and distant from great wisdom's thumb, 
then creature yes, I choose to be, 
rejecting realms where reason dwells; 
as reason fails, not partially, 
while posing most suspiciously,
but totally becomes consumed 
as fuel that feeds the furtive needs 
of man's malignant vanity.

It serves confusion's mischief muse, 
imbued as food and fodder for the fuse
that shines no truth upon the night, 
nor does it bring a guiding light 
to man - brother to the creatures given 
treasured gifts of insight rare.  Deflecting 
guile's deceit reveals the mind of man's profound conceit, 
in things that sing of new philosophy;
and brings devolving degradation to the clueless mind of man.

Conversion of dogmatic divinations 
made by few, to regulated absolutes, 
without review, reveals what tyranny 
conceals: seduction of a population 
utilizing truth manipulation.

The truth is new each time it's found 
and what we bind as truth today 
we find no future truth is bound.
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