Whilst I sit
My mind wanders
To and fro
That which is
Purported to be my own illusion.

Whilst I contemplate
The possibility
Back and forth
Of that which is
Purported to be without malice.

Whilst I feel
A too familiar pain
Within and without
Of that which is
Purported to be overly sensitive.

Whilst I beseech
A deeper understanding
Here and there
Of that which is
Purported to be love.

Whilst I cling to hope
And believe in dreams
Above and beyond
That which is
Purported to be intangible.

I refuse to deny
That which
My heart believes in.

Unintentional is no excuse for ignorance.
And innocuous is seldom what is infers.

Sudo Nym ~ Poet in Motion
Copyright June 10, 2007
All Rights Reserved