weakened heart

i am in dreams and out alive in a world that doesn’t hold me
the fact is i am as human as the next man and prone to all forms of afflictions
i don’t hold onto my state as being perfect or even being perfectible
only that it is mine
let the world rejoice in my contradictions
i feel and am set with desire and vital emotions
all is a tornado of sensation
i work until i hurt and i cry until i die
there is no real release in my life no final undoing
when god comes i will be thinking only of myself
in his grace i experience passing fancies of immortality and clarity
but what of the rest
the day to day cursing and frustrations
how is that the soul of light
original sin yes but not only
i am full of what makes a man
so then be guided by knowing this
it is the truth to be deluded
the waking moments are filled with your life
and that is the dream of the dreamer
and like the dreamer there is unconscious awareness
of another reality to which we aspire
and in that waking we are brought here
dreams within dreams within aspirations
the only thing i can offer you is this
my own complete acceptance of my confusion as enlightenment
that is what i know
and can feel everyday without fail
when you see me as god that is the place where there is no confusion
but where i see myself as god that is my delusion
we have been together a long long time
we have loved as divine souls and touched each others loving hearts
but in my life i am a warrior of the truth and the servant of the machine
a man of words and little action
a poet bent on being unknown
desperate to not be the object of expectation
for i fear the cross of fulfillment
the crown of unintended consequences
as karmas are deposited on my doorstep
how am i blameless
for i would tell the eager their hoped for sonnets
only to watch their dreams vanish with them
i speak for the soulless and the unfranchised
the disparate lovers of the battle of good and godless
in times like these there are only the survivors not the victors
kings are made into mortal men and patrons eat from bowls of scraps
the flesh is born and left to rot and we have little to say or do that will change that
i know everything
and its not enough
i see through the binding light
and it is darkness
for you this life
the truth is born of the darkness
the light is sprung from emptiness
i see them both
in equal measures
not opposites but children of the same womb
conceived with love and set free
and while thoughts choose one or the other
i cannot
for both are made of me
even as i write this i am doomed and proud at once with the bleak awareness of my task
for here is coming the apocalypse and the mountains are brought down and the seas afire
and i am that
once and always the bringer and the pretender of the cross and its bearer
if these words do not convey what it is i am going through then hold my black tears in your hand and feel the oil of my extinction
there is no altar i am thrust upon yet i freely sacrifice my only self
in this we are safe no more
for even the next world is upon us
and past lives become the future of this soul
i see the stream of being never ending the world of souls the universe of desires the plague of existence
and the once sweet and broken child i was
from mothers and fathers from lost journeys to a fruitless end where the paper of our souls is printed and the truth is bound into history books
waiting for a future that never comes
and in this moment i am again cast out into a world of duties and responsibilities not freedom
if this was my moment i would die but this is for you
i am not searching for salvation
or even some kind of release
but a way to tell my children and all the children
if this is not love then what am i
for all the universe is brought from love and i am all of that
the terror is my own epiphany of realizing this is the reality of love
the light and dark do not mix
they are not shades and tints but rather thoughts so perfect one cannot know the other
I would test you with my weakened heart but in truth its my wicked love