I once believed in the purity of the world.
An endless paradise through the eyes of a child.
Baby blue were the skies and mint fresh was the air
at the breaking dawn of every blessed day.
But years revealed the fancy behind the blindfold,
and I saw cracks at the edges of beggars’ smiles
which favored their fortunes as much as their prayers,
vanishing in shivering nights by our doorways.
I once believed in the power of my makers.
From below I gazed in absolute reverence
and knew for a fact that never would they falter,
for all that was right and true was most known to them.
But soon the greener grass arose from our neighbors,
and a son’s questioning soon leads to severance.
The straight and narrow path permanently altered,
inciting a long self-discovery mayhem.
I once believed in the eternity of God,
and in growing forever nearer to His grace
through the ways of meekness and blind obedience,
lest we were to meet earlier in paradise.
But even he proved he could be humanly flawed
and for no horror did he ever show his face.
For his stories were nothing but expedience
and men were left to dispense amidst the mice.
I once believed in the poetry of karma.
That what I put out there would return onto me.
And that one man’s kindness would be another’s light
to guide him amidst the brume and cynicism.
But at the bottom of this is found no dharma,
for the cosmos has chaos we cannot foresee
and the hands of indifference will come to smite,
turning all specks of brotherhood into schism.