Letting Go

One can only wonder of the users veiled indeed,
Their numbers swell behind their names to plant their secret seeds,
Until it does no good at all, they fall to those who know,
And yet I find myself again no way to let it go.
How I wish that I could see the evening’s veiled expense,
From where I stand surrounded by a fallen picket fence,
Being told in rhymes so bold illusions one by one,
Verses, curses, two part dreams, no doubt without the sun.

How dare the somber sycophants, who glace from veiled retreat,
Soft promotions lay devotion’s swill before the feet
Of enigmatic eager ears that beg to hear some more,
Asthmatic aspirations as I watch the words implore.
The wind explains what can’t be said with metaphoric muse,
The thoughts are there for those who care to see how some can use,
Some were born of yesterday while others just don’t care,
I for one and one for all just sit with somber stare.

The web is woven silken soft aloft the praises given,
Espoused arousal spoils the toils by conscious indecision,
Prosaic plied perfection is but in beholder’s eye,
One man’s magic but illusion until the truth belies,
I am not enchanted, just supplanted expectations,
A ghost, a goblin glared by all who glean in combinations,
An existential exercise who suffers from the clues,
Of how to simply let it go, and let the users use.