In plain sight I perceived blindness
That which could be the matter of subject
An object of eclecticism
Clasped in ancient monism

I accent on the ascent of spiritual life
Wherein growth potent only to one
Emancipates the lot
How soon if not ever but now

We see in blindsight truth laid bare
Yet from within struggles of alter egos
The battle to be just lies in the storm
Continually overlooked for modernistic praise

In time and yes at midnight
Begrudgingly faced with the choice to take whichever path that calls on our very nature
Which will it be?