Sincere Sins.

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Sincere Sins Here….
All the effort to get it,
All achievements in the movement turned to dust –
Blown to A western base reality of insincere I love yous cussed,
In essence its intrinsic for some to hand pick
Snatch blank blinks of nothingness
Pretense caresses as love regresses.

Hiding out the back is a secretive little pig sty
Alone and Tired that’s where they cried
A vast expanse observed in a fundamental transient glance
Cultivated by eternal emptiness.
Captured in that glass of agnosia,
The smoke disappears through her
Whence its form and shape cleaved toward the clouds of hope
Yet to be bespoken or choked
it turns to nothing
A postured invisible yoke.
[early 20th century: coined in German from Greek agnōsia ‘ignorance’]