The Ugly Head of Reason
It comes down to this.
That which we fight against
is lightly dancing just before our eyes.
Though it may fade at intermittent times,
the orbits of its journey
are the cogs of mind unmovable,
perfection in their gift to us, while we,
our tantrums never at an end,
attend the arsenal of war.
We're good at it,
this masquerade of hymnody
to peace and justice faintly crying out,
but interspersed with celebration
of some victory attained upon
a lesser man, growing ever smaller
in our sight.
What kind of victory is that?
And reason? An empty act of will,
a chimera of modesty and
just is its claim of silence.
This, our battlefield and
this, our nemesis; the spark within
grows dim,
and cold...
and without a care.
I never knew oblivion
was just a word away.
~
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
