A fine line lies between two states,
One of joy and the next of rage,
And fear is but a middle man,
who stands between these different lands.
Sometimes deep love can merge with hate,
some sacred truths one cant contemplate,
for every man who questions fate,
there is a fool whose lust wont sate.
For often sacrilidge is truth,
unspoken, hidden, misconstrued,
Was not the devila creation of God,
Who only let him stew and rot.
Is not this life a game of chess,
between two foes who often met,
upon the sands of time they play,
there is no black or white just grey.
For every truth conceals a lie,
for every man who lives two die,
for every push there is a pull,
for every ten there is a null.
And absolute power is a drugging wine,
that immortals drink while they feast and dine,
Its sensous coils has them ensnared,
of this my friend one must despair.
Perhaps this maze has no just end,
And all these paths lead unto themselves,
Maybe there is no universal truth,
just stone etched facts one can't undo.
For some a sin is virtue still,
For others virtue is a sin,
For so many death is but a curse,
but for a few it will but nurse.
We are told that deeds should not expect rewards,
But every man is not a God,
And is not worship a form of bribe,
just for this gift of mortal life.
So even God expects returns,
Our servitude is what he earns,
And is this not a form of greed,
Between these lines when will you read.
When will we call a spade a spade,
There is no love there is no hate,
You will condemn me for my views,
These storms of doubt will always brew.
But for this momentItake no sides,
I neither face darkness nor the light,
And what I see is just one thing,
A barred door I can not unhinge.
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