The Views Poem by Brian Freeman

Sight covets the trust of a heart that's yearning. Faith leads one to desirous paths. Will lures choice with a glare that craves. The night glows through a window in the sky. He stares through the clear glass wrapped in steel, bisected by the metal beams vertical heights, squaring the tall glass like vertiginous lanes. White light beams through a coiling tube underneath the next ring that illumines the tower. The gleams twine from the layering of the tiers. Lust roams through the ploys ruling his thoughts, shading his virtues like the grounds beneath him.

He grins with superiority in his eyes, staring below toward the object of intention; a world of inhibitions that he longs to possess, trading reserve for the infinite that he's conjured. Yet while he summons what is absolute in deceit, venality erupts like nefarious flame. Fire dies in the murk ruling his conscience. Morals freeze in the coldness of the gloom.

While he searches for the meaning of conquest, a shiver stirs him at the thought of his worth, and whether time was an ally or a rule. He never questioned what his motives implied, or if the moments ever culminated in joy. His aim was desire, tangible or abstract. While he reigns on a throne fashioned from choice, he looks around him for the sight of a neighbor, struck from pain only emanating from truth. His quest was in vain, as if killing a savior, losing his soul in a barter for the views.