The art of Thought

Pondering prematurely on the future's taste,

will achievement hug my tongue or will bitter disgrace,

pack so heavily upon my soul that i"ll fold under the weight?

of a thousand eyes anticipating the glorious fate,

of a quarrelsome talk with karma that keeps me awake,

trembling in a bed built from choices i made,

when thoughts were merely reflections of the city that raised,

me to be beyond numb from outcomes that led me astray,

oh how i wish that i can foresee the controversial day,

when thoughts become things and things become rays,

beaming from the sun so soothingly smooth

ooze through the pores of my blemished skin,

skim over my stature with a meaningless grin,

feed me with sin, curse me with truth

unveil the masked soldier who fights to pretend

that we don't control out destiny with thoughts from within