Reflections

the vision staring back at me
through the especial glass allows
and allows me not to see
truth
the eyes would only take to view
that which is penetrable to the mind
for we often would refuse to see
what to others is simple clarity
possibly illness,
political corrections,
or blatant rejection
that serves as platonic grounds
for why we are
who we are.
Excuses stretch only for a time
and white lies only go so far
what was once the only thread
has branched out, is imbued and
imbibed
by all the others.
and as fingers touch cold surface
wanton fleetings seep in and out
pondering chances,
pondering imponderables,
where question marks floats and out numbers
the little of faith and reason that is left
to be replaced by growing doubt
and restless fear
that efforts to block out and repel
proves both futile and immaterial.
For black on white is
white to black
and either prospect's dark
and so it will remain thereafter
unless we take the plunge
and brave ourselves
for what is yet to come.