Lamentation From Within A Cynical Heart

Within the fabric of deceit, I’m reminded of why I question my makers purpose. The nature of me being, and this inevitable escape from how being’s defined. Occasion after occasion, I imagine our dark mistress reaching to caress my presence while she insists I hear her say I’m far less than adored. I question how being defined as a tool of fabrication this legacy is. For the father of lies I’m device every lying tongue seeks when searching refuge from themselves. though within our heart I’m a misrepresentation to those using the same device to administer deliverance unto their salvation. Unto our mistress I’m a device for her sins increase. Unto salvation, I fear this thing’s a thing renounced because this thing’s despised. Thus! I lament within me while enduring the storm’s threshold. Assuming her gesture contradict  her words. Unto the first perhaps I will always be our righteousness presence. For this thing selfsame decor. For the deviant, perhaps I am selfsame corruption unto wicked things. From her gesture  a  sinner I am, tempted of sins devices. A gate-keeper between vexation and realization of what our purpose is as defined. Let the truth of vanity hide behind the charade of peace no longer. Vain deceit stains humanity creating opportunity of being defined less than acceptable. A delusion dictated from desperate, frightened dictators. Mass of fabricated promises separated as a result of fault. The covenant seeks  the prince of peace but reject classless, race-less and sexless communist societies. They live behind the fantasy appearance they create for themselves while denying the steadfast standards their dictators created. Nearing the end of my fantasy I ask what this mistress gains from this many levels of manipulation. Is the benefit the same for all delusional participants of this existence? Perhaps her caress is enough to defy the things I fear? Will she conquer the cynicism of a faithful heart?

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