Order

Order has returned and it’s stronger than before
The anxiety of chaos had compromised my core

Unsettled, restless, aimless, left to wonder ‘Who am I?’
Do I elicit joyful smiles? Or an exasperated sigh…

And what exactly do I do, to prompt one or the other?
Which traits and habits do I feed and which ones do I smother?

The beauty of the chaos; absolutely no control.
Excepting, most profoundly, my will, my thoughts, my soul

So, assuming then, in hope, that order is to be restored
What do I, until that day, begin to build toward?

My will; towards a full routine, efficient nothing wasted?
Or indulge in every moment, no desire left untasted.

My thoughts; towards fantastic visions, lost in hopes and dreams?
Or on the task at hand, content that things are what they seem.

My soul; an abstract, conscious passion, wild, untamed, untrained
Or measured neural patterns, to be programmed and maintained. 

Order has returned, leaving chaos in its wake
I’ve often praised one o’er the other, and there was my mistake 

Mercy’s unpredictable, unruly, never fair
Supporting structure’s cold and hard, yet strong - and always there

My intentions   -  inconsistent, my sequential, steady sin
Between the strict and the unruly, I find the grace of discipline

-April 2020