Jacob's Refrain

We climb a fragile ladder.
An ancient, weatherworn ladder that always just a little more pressure away from breaking. 
By "we" I of course mean "I" for I know it is indeed true that I can only ever speak of what I know or have experienced.
  
In this moment I have been trying to understand a conflict,
No, more accurately, a war 
A war of feelings of lack and fulfillment.  
I have been wondering ever since my youth what drives people to commit and justify horrible acts of human absenteeism.  
The kind of things that make your heart sink and your skin go cold when you hear them.  
I have chased the tail of this beast as it darted in and out of the shadows just outside my understanding and the search has lately become tiresome.  

My legs ache and my mind is strained.  
How far have I come since this expedition began?  
Have I rattled myself so much and so often that crucial components have fallen off in my weary stupor?  
Can I continue or have I found a suitable enough place to rest?  
Are these two illusions so comfortable that my will is only strong enough to find a place in the so-called shade and sleep away the pain and mania? 
 
Better luck next time.  

Thank you.  
Come again.  

Mara is so beautiful and Lila, her game, so engaging.  
This tale is nearly at an end and yet the hero has still to overcome his woes.  
Is this the same tired cliffhanger that you see on every channel as you sit there, comfortable but bothered, trying to escape the infomercials and late-night seminars?  
Maybe it's just the story that's had me so enthralled.  
Maybe this numbness is just a loss of endeavor, tired of searching shadows for the beasts they may hide.  

Oh dear God, where oh where am I?!  
Who is this speaking, reeking of pity and self-defeat?  
This mask fits so perfectly, even around the lips, you can hardly tell that somewhere underneath lies a real human being.  
But this is fun!  
Yes maybe now when I look in the looking glass I can see what I want!  
Whatever I want!  
No soldier was ever as dutiful, no God as powerful, no acolyte as just and righteous as I, this I that I may wear wherever and whenever I please.  
It's just for now, right?  
I can be myself tomorrow, right?  
The "I" that I've always wanted to be?  
The perfect silhouette created by the perfect, soft light?  
Or maybe this can be a starting point, pointing to some outrageous and wonderful construct of my own somewhere in the not-so-distant distance.  

Maybe.  
Maybe not.  

But this mask fits so well, especially around the lips.  
And if the beasts don't recognize me as their pursuer maybe this time I will catch one.  
But I wonder this one last thing:  
When I catch one by it's so closely guarded tail, will the last thing I see be it's teeth?  

This rung's about to break from the weight I've put on it.  
"I" had better keep moving.