With stains of humiliation and shame
Spread upon my sultry flesh,
I once again salvage my strayed style
As I resume my aimless stroll
Into the shady wilderness.

Like the unusual smog
Snaking its way through shadowy streets
I stride to keep up with my sinful soul,
Scurrying ahead in an attempt
To shake off my sinister yet solid body.

Stalled have been my efforts
To assess the scope of my own self
Useless have been my stabs
To splinter the shields
That shelter the sin called superstition,
Shrouded behind shammed screens
And forged simulations
Of sincerity and conviction.

Shattered is my hope
To search for and seek
The vision I always wished to see.
Beneath the scorching sun,
Stranded alone on a small isle
Surrounded by a stormy, limitless sea,
With all sagacity lost,
I stare at the ship sinking on the horizon.
I simply watch as the ocean smacks and slaps
At the sturdy construct.

Surprisingly however,
The stalwart vessel
Stirs up resolutely against the shrewd sea
With its superlative strategies in effect.
Seeing this, spontaneously enough
I support my steps and speed up
On the path of sanity.

The vision sparks strength in me
To distinguish
Joy from sorrow,
Smile from sob,
Light from shade
And spirit from a set of mere spectres.

And it is this sacred strength
Which makes me special,
The one above all,
The one they call,
The supervisor of time and space.



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