I could buy the story that the world is wicked
That mankind is desperate
And alone.
I could start believing that my life will fail me
That my soul is faltering
and hope’s gone
I could use the compass that was shrewdly altered
As to always point to
The wrong north
I could start believing that the sky is falling
that we’re doomed and helpless
On this Earth
I could lose my patience with enduring precepts
with the things that matter
with being me.
I could be deluded to embrace the ugly
and forgo my blessings
But I see.
