I have never wooed choices,
even the ones between living and dying
It was a mere matter of circumstance.
I had no indolent time
hanging like hedonism out of the clock
and walking its character into my socks
It was always just conscious work
Even when energy was a parched reservoir
so, to rely on sheer will and sense of duty
And the maggoty pain doing no favour!
I could think of love being my coat of armour
Even the crown of thorns, was a crown regardless
The love that always played the soothing music
when moments impinged on an intangible crucifixion
I never sought to euthanise tribulation
Morbid is such escapism!
In no one’s arms have I cried
Even on the grief-stricken days Mum and Dad died!
I know virtue can present itself as a folly
Integrity risk an imminent interment
And ideals can be beaten by villainous idiocy
But I am not dumbfounded
Even if you label me a nowhere maverick
How then did evil seek to capitalise on my magic?
Does the diviner feel that his divination
confine him to a prison of treachery; and is he prisoner
because you all had your pockets filled deep by the evil scrivener?
For, you all had no astuteness to discern
between the perfumer and the poisoner!
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