Arboreal transcendence.
Placid ambiguousness.
Ethereal presence.
Pretty concepts in the light of correspondence,
Yet their true identities lie in intrepid weakness.
For in reality the sincerity is the litigation hence:
Perhaps these principals will be onerous to fathom,
And perchance one must undergo transcendental meditations,
But their teachings are all one in the final outcome;
Human indulgence and affinity results in falsely-assumed usurpations.
Consider the pitiable bludgeon:
All day long does he riot.
It is not the fact that his fighting is of worthless reason,
But that his act of fighting itself is a resort,
Exercised by the unenlightened as an involuntary fashion,
To express their own self-ignorance.
It is also that we, as individuals,
Choose to burden ourselves indefinitely.
We romanticize that which we are without,
And then proceed to possess that affinity.
We unknowingly steal a jinxed idol,
And in so doing conform our lifestyle,
To forever aspiring one solitary presence,
Which we are without, will forever be without,
And ultimately may never enjoy.
We are obstinate, however, in our greed.
We are unable of seeing the forest through the trees.
Reality is but a deliberate figment to us:
We dare not understand it as its truths aggravate our ideals.
Even in knowing that our aspirations are futile,
And our lust is unheard,
Still we stand and lay our hearts out before the executioner,
And say, “It is now your burden, settle this one for me.”