Twisted Good

Monotony is one eternal round.
Frustration’s supply fills my oil lamp.
I put my light of anger on a hill,
And I know that it is a twisted good.

I meet with friends and family, and am
Rejuvenated from their light and love.
But righteousness is a destructive fire,
And their beauty turns to betraying faults.

The light becomes divided from the dark,
Yet there is good in the horrible night.
The stars promise blessings upon blessings,
But destruction is the only ruler.

Twisted disfiguration cripples me,
The light bends, reflects, and blares in my eyes.
It turns people away, banishing them.
I am a martyr, and the fire burns.

There is nothing worthy of sacrifice,
Everything is offered, and it’s evil.
Broken benevolence is all I have,
Until moments give an alternative.

Glimmers of dew drops begin to brighten.
Magnificent mountains bring good tidings.
Sunsets and sunrises, moments sublime,
These are real inklings of the eternal.

Alas, I cannot always understand
The glory and beauty in the natural.
But the light of the sun will fill my lamp,
And the peaceful mountains will be my hill.