"What I See is Not What I Feel"

Another sonnet for August.  This one got interesting.



Impetuous conceptions taunt me through
their unprovisioned mandates; though I try
to service them, they still resist a true
investment in their whimsies and belie
the sweet deceptions that they shall create.
For it is easy to believe them -- and
when my amazement comes, when I inflate
the magnitude of their import, the sand
of which they are composed transforms to mud,
which holds no form and cannot be constrained
into the shape of one's desires. Though blood
may flow and tears evaporate, I've gained
awareness of perceptions, so I might
accept the gist of dreams I cannot fight.