RMC

I don’t know why
some birds sing and fly
in the blue of the sky
while this earth dies.

Complicit is our minds
to the abuse we put to use
the teaching of the divine
to cipher with it in time.

What use am I just a guy
is all I am and I can be awry
when it gets under skin why
do I flounder and die inside?

Is it true is it kind
to yourself to look and find
that in the clouds up high
and beyond no answers and cry?

Why am I still a quill
up in the sky catches my eye?
Do I have reason it’s treason
to my heart I think at times blind.

I want my heart and soul
to adhere to a modicum of control
so I might search low and slow
the path the fate of my soul.

As the globe turns I burn
the addled mind I find I turn
into a monster I can’t muster
what I need to yearn a lesson learned.