Reflections and Shadows

Restless Troubles

Of truth and reality which harbors more of a sting,
or does blurred perception make the pendulum swing?
Fate's mocking laughter bursts forth with such a shrill,
and gnashing night visions become an oh-so bitter pill.

Where did the fondness of youth lose its sacred power,
along this journey where Time consumes hour by hour?
The wellspring of fancies seems now so far out of grasp,
stolen away by the lies of a slithering, venomous asp.

Only fools fight these losing battles where all self is lost,
leaving behind the barren souls who have paid the cost.
Queens have become pawns, and knights have no king,
madness and folly have begun to govern every little thing.

Mine enemy is a fool but not more so I suppose than I,
for struggling and grappling we neither yield or even try.
Such anguish condemns the spirit to wallow in turmoil,
making one ponder the comfort of the grave digger's soil.

Wounds of ill will can be mended and unions can be sealed,
but tattered hearts and ruined trusts may never be fully healed.
As long as demons are restless and fiends free to prowl about,
there will always be troubling fear, and ever prodding doubt.