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Personal Note:

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Poem

A spirit born to exalt.
Shaped to be willed ambition.
Sometimes, 
can be trapped in an oppressive flight.
Yet, the soul will always be determined,
with a sense of mission 
and a sense of 
What is Right.

Lost in a hopeless situation.
Obedience governing the direction.
Struggling between sadness and madness,
and driven into a fitful rage.
Will modes into insanity,
as we turn the page.

One world’s reality.
Already predetermined and justified.
Served on a platter to feed the next mentality of
What is Right.

Feelings, Beliefs, Values, Morality, Popular Opinion,
was it “Right” that gave purpose to all “isms?”
Just as it is for us to decide to let it burn.
Until then, our new change of season,
Will come to smother and turn
All their heads be reason.
We follow all fools
into majority
rules.

When can we all sleep at night,
knowing being dark is a Right,
and the Right of plight
will lose the sight of
The color of Right?

Full of Right, I am blind.
For me to see the sane.
The greatness of a guiding light,
that allows me to be humane.
So full of Right,
prevents me to feel, 
What is good.
And I begin to question,
What is truth.
So then, tell me, 
What is right?

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