While on my retreat, a poem I wrote 12 years ago played a bit in my head.

19 May 1993

reason is murdered

i’m a wanderer of life,
my soul caught up
in the night and day of
hectic confusion.
my mind brings forth the illusion
that my eyes feign to believe.
i cannot conceive
the truth
that i have established for myself.
i repeat what i receive.
mere tautology of thoughts
to confuse the self further.
i try reason, but i hear a scream and
a voice cries out,
murder!
reason is murdered
and only its spirit is left.
still, i dig for its remains.

©

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