As I arise and fresh aspire
to seek that which in men inspire,
with each new light, of each new
day, I still, by night's display,
again have lost my way.

I claim that all is lost within
infinity's infinity;
a vacant void of cold uncertainty.

For were I not this man I see,
reflected in the dimness of the glass
and had the features of a creature I
might choose; a bear, a snail, a peacock's tail,
or mighty tiger's jungle muse,
then surely I would take the form
of one - and from the human run -
away from daily reasoned doubt
which shares man's vain and selfish shelf -
and so become engaged as one;
my most preternatural self.

The morning light still reaches not the black
and vast eternal void: where man is cast
at last, in vain, to claim by reason's bane,
a purpose stated, never named,
dissected from such flimsy source
as Freud and Joyce and God, of course.

If I as creature be too dumb
and distant from great wisdom's thumb,
then creature yes, I choose to be,
rejecting realms where reason dwells.
For reason fails, not partially,
while posing most suspiciously,
but totally becomes consumed
as fuel that feeds the needs
of man's malignant vanity.

It serves confusion's mischief muse,
imbued as feed and fodder for the fuse
that shines no truth upon the night,
nor does it bring a guiding light
to man - brother to the creatures given
treasured gifts of insight rare. Deflecting
guile's deceit the mind of man's profound conceit,
in things that sing of new philosophy.
A grand manipulation of the clueless mind of man.

Conversion of dogmatic divinations
made by few, to regulated absolutes
without review, reveals the tyranny concealed;
seduction of a population utilizing truth manipulation.

The truth is new each time it's found
but what we bind as truth today,
we find no future truth is bound.