The Mind Is Split

Social baptism—the esoteric becoming

pivotal, illumination becoming root

cause—by chase, into solace, looking as it

deteriorates. Pledged and planted—beloved of

Spirit, traveling into silence, so loud, so

sworn, with walls building the skies;

plangent sounds inside, rhetoric clouds

above, hoping it gets better. Oh solitary Star,

so close to others, parties forbidden; the

weeping was mocked, true salvation comes in

the aftermath, one might learn how to

behave; mourners are in captivity, as is joy,

with so much to reach for; such solemn

bitterness, despised for behaviors, disjointed

because of words, a different perspective

because of ethics. The hart pants at the

brook. The violin decides to retreat. The

relief is in the Promise. Most would rather

take up the Wager. Pure participation,

soteriology in bloom, the yoke of more

substance than irregularities. Deeper despair

at moments, something to it, Was Life in his

fairer mind?