Soot On The Mirror Poem by delalorm fiaka

Tell me who I am not and I will tell you whether you ought to be scrutinising who I am not or you ought to have first sought to be who you are not so you can hold the lamp, being the finder of the path...
A finder of the path still shrouded underneath the crowded weed stalks..a finder who flounders with strides of uncertainty...in search of uncertainty..
Uncertainty taunts the disjoint choreography of swivels into the future..redundancy paints the evil captured by your life's aperture..
That same aperture with which you aim to snap my inevitable imperfections..
Imperfections that line the garment of my refinement..
Refinement you and definitely me should gulp down from the gourds of this bitter sweet life..
For our divine scrolls say...remove the log from your eyes before you come close to the splint in my eyes..