II-IX In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Oh my God, is it just me or does

Shangri-La finally show a favor divine to me?

Don’t be foolish, every time the heavens smile my way,

a brother is dragged to hell, astray.

I’m ensnared, longing to be free,

yet yearning still for life’s decree.

I’ve lived so little as I desire,

and much as I can, in fate’s cruel mire.

Privileges, countless, fortune, and grace,

yet I’ve lost my soul in another place,

another realm, a dreamer’s embrace.

So I suffer for me, for him,

for everything and nothing, on a whim.

Joy returns when cares diminish,

when the world consumes my time, my spirit replenished.

How futile to be useful to the world’s design?

How futile to be useful to oneself, confined?

How vast the pain of loss, the will to attack,

that leaves a soul in eternal longing’s track?

I feel all is crucial despite its vanity,

just as I fall prey to such great treachery,

I seek to change the world and destiny.