Don't speak of higher existence
Or of infinite radiance.
Don't speak of ideas sublime
Or of ideals divine.
How you elude my senses,
You fiend in angel's dress.
How you scar every guess
With your intentional distress.
I stand at a cross road,
Hiding behind your open abode,
Waiting to catch you by surprise
When you strut in your garbled disguise.
Dear inspiration, come forth I beseech,
My reason is in a cloud,when you are far from common reach.