Pray before the altar of fear,
despised and forgotten
at the Sun's rising.
We are limited by
placated withdrawal and
self-righteous decrees,
placed perfectionism with
self-fulfilling,
self-reliant sustainability.
All of this has been my experience,
traveling days at a time
to idealism.
I have been at it for years,
and honestly,
I'm not very good at it.
Could be my friends,
the people I listen to
and gain perception from,
or it might be God,
but let's not go there,
at least not in this poem.
Ask me what I want,
so I can be creative,
inventing my purpose,
and sometimes convincing myself,
that it was always about
the girl,
the friends,
the publishing,
when it was always about
me.
