Dis-Illumined

Not all beings seek light as a reprieve
and who am I to force others to believe?

I'll blow my own candle out.

Truth tends to slip through my fingers, indeed
what I once took for granted is now a controversy.

So I know that the thoughts
I hold close to my soul
Are as fallible as a fire
exposed to the wind's blow.

And I've seen that these dreams
which once defined me
were mere moments in an infinite sea
of personality.

Who could I ever be
but the result of my own will
collapsing probability?

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