in so many pieces
virtue crumbles;
fighting so hard,
clawing to hold onto what is ours -
as we perceive it -
we lose sight
of our better angels
becoming one with the mob,
tearing the world apart,
we ruin ourselves
and call it living
when will the mind remove itself,
dropping aside
so we might react
to what surrounds
rather than continuing
in the endless contemplation
of the minutiae of each day;
this crippling analysis
leaving us moored in place -
when will we be moved
to move
another sleepless night
spent staring into
darkness' shadows
searching for the ambrosia
to ease a mind
overused in worry
of so many issues
beyond its reach -
too high a price
for too little return
