Sunday

 
Tilted Sundays smile at me
in the moment I am askew
Tempted greed shines inside me
my soul too bright grieves in the light
 
A dark figure of regret belies my grief
within my dreams a woman of substance
keening in the noise
 
Scorned of hope I remain hidden
lest I wander aimless
and in the night ponder my meaning
when I lie to my heart
continuing down the path given
 
Seeking my madness bane
in wonderment of faith
my intellect barren of proof
seeks higher intelligence
only to be denied entry