Beautifully upswept images, 
Radiant waves of fortune brushing by, 
Light unseen, 
Messages understood in part, 
Insincerity mounting, 

Struggles feigned, 

Dreams shoved further into the future to make room for what will please the world of which, 
Of which, 
They are, 
Inspiration raising the spirit, 
Disowned by arguments framed in defense of disbelief, 
Fears wedging themselves between life and death, 
Making a choice necessary, 

No lecture can explain the right and wrong of it all, 
Conception beginning in openness, 
Persevering in discernment, 
And arriving at understanding, 
So much destroyed by unrealized truths, 
Grandfathered in by minds distorted and unkempt, 
Paralyzed by fears, 
Wedging themselves between life and death, 
Begging for a choice over which consideration, love, and courage is shed. 

All the while smiles are used as cover, 
Blood is spent on time, 
And bravery is wasted on efforts designed to purport, “Busy, active.” 
No direction, 
No inceptions, 
Nothing resembling the nature of the inspiration originating with grace through the center of the soul: 
The self: 
The point at which the mind and heart connect, 

The learned and untested, 
The taken for granted and unpressed against the whole of what one knows and feels, 
Serving as blockades to the marvelous, 
Here and now, 

Beautifully upswept images, 
Radiant waves of fortune brushing by, 
Light unseen, 
Messages understood in part, 
Insincerity mounting, 

Because my eyes are closed against the realities I know are true, 
To protect what I’ve been told.