The Regrets of the Eternal Heart

I wonder why,
The woeful demise of the everlasting light,
But quickens the prevailing darkness.
Why the internal delight,
Is so persuasively aimed to the colorless clouds,
As the sweeping shadows enclose the heart.
The infuriate spirit aroused within,
Infests the infirm thought of tranquility.
The sole foundation of the golden innocents,
Flatten by a formless infelicitous form.
The seeking game of truth and values,
( Like the mirages that so easily deceives the eyes of men,)
Are so corruptibly twisted into the boundless thought of hate.
The endless screams of what is to be of justice,
Are thrown into the deep underbelly of the witches' cauldron.
The final catalyst of the unbalanced equation,
Further snags the pliant survivor,
Into the intoxicated shallows of night.
The sanctuary of glee,
Is turned into the murky swamps of the lost demons.
The black sand quickens it motions,
As it slowly devours you into so sure fated end.
The fire bursting and roaring,
For the sweet taste of perfect revenge.
All that was gained at the beginning,
All that was worked so hard for in order to meet the all mighty haven,
Is lost in the end.
I wonder why,
Does the heart over power the mind.
To act upon mere passion and not on what's right.
I wonder why,
All that is supposed to be right,
Is always the harder path ahead.
Temptations are always there.
I wonder what will become of us,
If war and hate grow deeper into our hearts when it's suppose to be gone.
But the thought,
That there might be a way to erase the sins of our past,
Keep us going.
It's the regrets of our eternal heart,
That shall be our demise.