Hyde Self Wrought Poem by Frank Witte

Sometimes life seems to pass in a rushing haze,
sometimes it remains frozen in an endless gaze.
I sit besides the water and wonder what brought me here,
was it vanity, fate, love, or some other emotion yet unclear.

Sometimes doing what is right seems impossibly hard,
sometimes the option to do wrong impossible to discard.
I sit besides the water and wonder what wrought this fear,
was it sanity, to late, from above, ruling this inner sphere.

Sometimes however in a moment all just seems right,
like a warm but forceful embrace by a new spring's light.
Birds twittering in the prequel glow of a novel dawn
leaving only questions as to what sequel today will spawn

We never become guilty by anything that, for anyone, we feel.
Only by the things we fail to do, to make a loved ones life heal.
Love may run amock when it returns to a life gone stale,
but never can that serve as an excuse for betrayal.