Left with only implications,
consequently forced to infer,
I navigate your labyrinth
with directions my doubt whispers.

As insecurity colludes,
casting aspersions on the truth,
circumstances mitigating,
my lack of trust lies at the root.

Smoke and mirrors, misdirection,
essential to the illusion.
But my heart wanting to be fooled,
became its perfect delusion.

Though no longer a disciple
of lofty ideals like blind faith,
I am a faithful adherent
of Aphrodite, so I … wait.

M. Zane McClellan

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