The scope of which I can not define,
an awkward disposition of confusion,
I seek refuge from sanction and my mind,
a modest man is more often an illusion.


Embodied by soul in a timeless quest,


All that varies, begins and obliterates,
All that stagnates, defies and contests,
to decipher the meaning must be my fate.

Where is guidance when you are closed within?
How may one surrender with no white flag to draw?
What drove humanity towards society and religion?
Is cruelty a quality of man or it’s primary flaw?

As a man myself I will continue to ponder,
to what I conclude I can only wonder.