The faults within us court this self-identity they make

By tokens mirror back on us which latitudes to take

Refract and resonate on reasonable life

Our obstinate pursuits that best define us

They carry-on with maxims telling tissues in your head

Marry with undivided faults, and are their meditations

Wedded in a cauldron, bedded in a boardroom; the unconscious mind

We are not what we say we think we are

Our nearest-neighbour views are heretic; wend out of synch

The mess that we profess, we would not sit and dine on

Our stubbornness of whim provides no stand to take a line on

If for one day it were not this way, and the angels call

Overheard, by we absurd, cantankerous, patched creatures

Their swirls would fly like pigs; our undeclared black natures

Would make them bacon; roast as rashers; cheese for afters

Perhaps. No, no perhaps. The turnings of the world concede, deflected

Run out of ordered orbit, on such a day of integration

That day when worthy words might match in consequence all worldly intimation

Perhaps. No, no perhaps. The marketplace, their rents, and all the gravy politicians

Finding in due regard hard-binding promise and an honesty in love

They abide not light denied, to hide their former conscience,

Its flays debilitating cormorant recollection

Fell swoop disputes their rights of tenure provisioning of goods.

Their prayers prefer a shelter of untruth, declare no eye for vision

And so our junket misbehaviours, blanket, mar the rubric

Otherwise some great guys would lock themselves away in prison

And offer penance, giving alms in heaps in hopes of restitution

Example:

Man of The Year in Time this year, in 2020

The year of perfect vision; hear the premier magazine

Hails Biden, Joe, his Running Mate, the pinnacle, the stellar

What for?

What did they do yet, that they got so far?

Or is it next year? Or the last? Yes, maybe