If I could but trust,
that which I see of myself,
and not recoil with distrust,
in a need to constantly delve,
and pry open every inclination;
to examine, question and explore
the resonance of each inspiration
while accepting my hidden flaws.
How I see myself from day to day,
is at the mercy of fickle minds,
which can change in every which way,
by mood swings of different kinds;
when pensive filled with doubt;
when challenged become deflated;
when repentant humbled and devout;
when contented relaxed and sedated.
Ripples on water distort lucid visions.
holographs add to myriad confusion,
prisms portraying divisions,
mirages of the mind deflected illusions,
flights of fantasy sense of delusion,
scattered phrases defy definitions,
intonation emphasis to bland expressions,
a part of me resides in these reflections.
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