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Self
It seemed an awful lot,
to keep up the face of another.
If I were to play myself a sainted man,
having graced enlightenment.
Is it not the work of many clergy man,
to paint themselves atop a pedestal,
only to lead those many astray,
on a path of corpses and calculating.
None with sight,
the blind leading the blind.
And all for what?
To seat at a table of my own demise,
to shout a fools language to the lot,
a fools errand.
To make myself out a great sage,
only to spoor nonsense to those without thought of their own.
And all for what?
lest my wings catch fire
and I break my neck upon reaching ground.
"What goes up must come down."
It seemed an awful lot,
to keep up the face of another,
as at all to be loved by many.
© Panducollections&co
to keep up the face of another.
If I were to play myself a sainted man,
having graced enlightenment.
Is it not the work of many clergy man,
to paint themselves atop a pedestal,
only to lead those many astray,
on a path of corpses and calculating.
None with sight,
the blind leading the blind.
And all for what?
To seat at a table of my own demise,
to shout a fools language to the lot,
a fools errand.
To make myself out a great sage,
only to spoor nonsense to those without thought of their own.
And all for what?
lest my wings catch fire
and I break my neck upon reaching ground.
"What goes up must come down."
It seemed an awful lot,
to keep up the face of another,
as at all to be loved by many.
© Panducollections&co
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