The Man I Have Become

In a sky stained with black and white tinges, the moon slowly rose, Interspersed a being and a storehouse of innocuous anecdote. Innumerable starlings clove the air, Even with mawkishly effeminate sentiment and soullessness. Yet, the brassbound stood bold before the austere hand of adversity and drill, In the moments of pleasure, utter idleness and insipidity, Moods of vindictive recoils visible like a new dawn, At times, oddly disappointing and fickle. Many people priced but couldn't pay, And the rest paid but couldn't price, A golden twilight set to transfigure the world, The soul pelted with honour, dignity and an interminable torrent of words. Radiant with the beautiful glamour of youth, A supreme arbiter of conduct, Not sunk in a phraseological quagmire, Like the pristine freshness of spring badly described by a common maxim. It's not a brand of merchandize, So I wonder when it would be sold. Far from a title or characteristic of a man, Integrity is a way of life I have embraced till the end of time.