No one can but deny its intoxic control.
In a New-York-like minute it plummets the mood
To the depths of delusion and utter dismay.
Misty haze is a menace in anyone’s day.
Brightness is the reality, but it’s subdued
By the faint transient presence that withers the soul.

Clarity – not confusion is what I’d prefer
All the time if It’s possible. It’s more than that.
Knowing that there’s a filter between me and light
And that soon it will vanish, I’m felling alright.
Fogginess is akin to the idle chitchat
In the mind pre-programmed for despair, as it were.

Lucidness in my seeing comes after my thought
And the active discernment that needs to take place
In my conscious awareness, and how it all feels.
Frequent flight into folly most often reveals
Any fault with my vision. I warmly embrace
What the day has in store that has not yet been bought.

Over-idealization of the mundane
Can rarely be a problem. A mind open wide
To the heart’s inner calling and hearable voice
Is one firmly believing it makes its own choice.
I cannot let the weather perform as my guide,
Nor the gloom heir apparent among the insane.