The Yin and Yang of My Soul
The darkness of the pure white —
The light that generates the grim sight
Of the briefcase, the suit, the cubicle
And the enslavement to the Master’s might —
Is devouring my radiant darkness.
Plagued by corporate wickedness,
It is the obvious fade of my serene black
That I now willingly confess.
This black —
The deepest point in the darkest ocean
Of my most virgin of emotions
That draws an enlightening inspiration,
Which empowers my most poetic of written lines —
Shall have one less guest.
Cause I am slipping towards the dark light
Amid a gruesome, uneven internal fight.
Yes, my balance is now tipping between
The black and white —
The yin and yang of my soul!
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