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Poem

Sincerity is hardly in an abundant quantity in our world
the blunderers and wonderers are deserted the direction hurled

Lost aimless looking to be painless seared in their fragile state
by promise makers and mockers and takers until it is too late

They hope, cope, mope and feel roped while facing a reality
robbed of peace and tranquility

Searching and asking, yearning while acting out this game called life
with the scenes that repeat like a thundering heartbeat consumed with horrific strife

Puppets get tangled and wrangled and mangled by the puppeteer
who's careless and cares less.  Verbose?  Yes, but truth uncovers fears and tears

The haystack is monumental, yet the needle miniscule hidden under eternal straw sticks
The hay is rough and in irritating tufts.  It blocks the gleam that's within.  It's a glow like fire 
on a burning wick.

Coal is a very dark stark mark of what exists if not burned
Ageless means stage less void of undiscovered value.  Leave no stone unturned

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