Reality of Thought

15) The sun has dried me up, my senses no
Longer pass; fried, as an egg condenses
Upon the skillet. Yet I comprehend
One small fact; unfettered hands do so bend
The reason of my mind, deter my fears,
As they run the length of my chin, render
Past judgements unintelligent and cheer
The pudgy mess I am with dubious
Hopes. So has the grasp of your hands given
Me thought that not all was as I believed.
But taught as I was to suspect all things
With equal measure, I frown at your act.
Such sequels as those led by charity
Do wrench at my heart with brevity. 

                                                                    Reality of Thought, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012