Swelling of The Soul (Unmetered Rhyming Verse) by Mike Williams 10/26/2015 @ 3:18 P.M.

So often deceived is the bone clad rattletrap we call the Mind, 
Should it age as an apple and lose its wonder and lusterous shine, 
And of love's organ we call the heart aflutter and prone to change, 
Should it feel a new perspective or turn darkly and something strange, 
Perhaps the vexation of life is nothing at all but merely in its angle, 
Our balance is lost or found hinged on uncertainties that temporarily dangle. 

To see with neither mind nor heart nor eyes as we rise and fall, 
And gage the world with our soul or without looking not at all, 
Are these exclusive or a single set of pieces often ill fit? 
To fire and cool or make us thus a fool in shadows perversely lit, 
For I look with one and neglect the others and lose my perspective, 
Or the probability lies fault with me alone becoming entirely selective. 

Youthful ideas now seem to have lost their muse as idle fits of folly, 
Time has worn them all well enough away and prone to melancholy, 
Today I look if nothing more distempered unlike my younger years, 
I played with time and toyed with emotions and now plied with their fears, 
How I used to feel invincible and time itself seemed to hold no sway, 
Old age has rendered me quite fragile and broken down of my former day. 

The mind I once chided of other men now withers inside of its shell, 
And the heart of youth dallied and abused and corrupted unfit to swell, 
The dreams of long ago are nothing but turned to ashes and dust, 
My eyes have ages since looked their last blinded toward former lust, 
All that remains is some part of me crying aloud and burning like a coal, 
Welling up inside like swollen tumultuous pride the thing we call a soul.