Whilst I sit
My mind wanders
To and fro
That which is
Purported to be my own illusion.
Whilst I contemplate
The possibility
Back and forth
Of that which is
Purported to be without malice.
Whilst I feel
A too familiar pain
Within and without
Of that which is
Purported to be overly sensitive.
Whilst I beseech
A deeper understanding
Here and there
Of that which is
Purported to be love.
Whilst I cling to hope
And believe in dreams
Above and beyond
That which is
Purported to be intangible.
I refuse to deny
That which
My heart believes in.
Unintentional is no excuse for ignorance.
And innocuous is seldom what is infers.
Sudo Nym ~ Poet in Motion
Copyright June 10, 2007
All Rights Reserved
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