Potential life is not a stage through which we mortals pass. It is instead an empty page -- accumulated mass. More than a promise unfulfilled and less than a desire. It is a blaze whose heart has chilled and yet must still be fire.
2.
Talent in its latent form
is genius in disguise.
Looking out for hidden lairs
with disenchanted eyes.
Slothful from its infancy
and idle now its grown.
Exertion seems a lofty goal
too easy to postpone.
Procrastinating out of fear
reclining in its coffin.
Perhaps it lost the will to move
from pausing once too often.
3.
Insulate me from myself
lest I should come to harm.
Fill my gut with self control
then take me by the arm.
Determination my defense,
my single pledge and vow.
Brings me from the precipice
and back to here and now.
Vague conclusions terrify
and weaken my resolve.
Condemning me to turpitude
and sins I must absolve.
4.
Quiet sighs are no disgrace
but cruel past all measure.
They seek to set a faster pace
and bind all sense of pleasure.
5.
Urgency of feeling;
Depth of grim resolve.
Rarely does it hesitate
when there is a riddle to solve.
Insistent force of nature,
compulsive act of faith.
Honored by a point of view
6.
A lack of soul is no excuse
for a senseless act of will.
Humans stand a better chance
when they fight the urge to kill.
Call it sport or hunger;
perhaps it's just insane.
The net result is loss of life;
a savage new terrain.
7.
A chance encounter with an urge
so steadfast in its zeal
can only serve to pluck a soul
from out its earthly wheel.
And once a soul has been apprized
of beings with such power.
Its earthly plane seems imprecise
and weaker by the hour.
The fate of souls so blessed by fate
is filled with grim despair,
that in their earthy mortal plane
they'll sink for lack of air.
8.
Left alone by acts of God
and driven by acts of will,
a soul must seek its answer
before its heart is still.
Hurt by missing artifacts
and empty recollections.
The soul must form a new defense
from out its own rejections.
9.
Each answer that we undertake
is but a means to question
the fabric that we contemplate
when seeking self-expression.
10.
Sadness is a state of grace,
a melancholy virtue.
It etches lines into your face
then charges forth to hurt you.
11.
Befuddled and bemused;
bewildered and betrayed.
What a shame to be abused
when such a price was paid.
12.
Discouraged by delusion;
and disturbed by disarray.
Describes the sad conclusion
to such a dismal day.