BEYOND THE ROAD TO PERDITION

The days grow into one another like a forest floor's flora,
I don't know how to distinguish my dreams from my nightmares,
Everything I want, world peace, personal prosperity, acceptance,
is at the control of those beyond my control,
nothing matters they won't understand, they're not listening,
the shadows of the emblematic bind and blind,
people deny their true selves and witnessing some example of it,
create empathy devoid of insight to govern risk,
and so the ones who have erred on the side of caution,
the sick and disenfranchised have echoes of cadence,
churning correctness into policy interpolated by an uncritical ear,
in the hope that dreams become a kind of reality or at least kind to it,
I fall into a slumber that encapsulates time,
memory reverberating with the will of consigned auspiciousness,
the will of option, born deep in the sign,
the capriciousness of uncertainty,
commanding the forum, and decadence,
of the soon to transform ideation and concept,
the after this moment, when virtue is granted in concern and aim,
corrected by insight, beyond the road to perdition.