Trajectory

A smidgen of belief must be extant,
to bridge the mystic void that separates
this world from higher planes. As is, men can't
appreciate the realms beyond those gates,

because their untaught sentience confines
their eyes. Too much belief confounds ones thought,
and dooms the heart to gloom. When wish, combines
with logic, goofy things rush, and get caught

and throttled in the strangling vines of Sleep.
But even worse, is no belief at all.
Like oiling gears, strategic faith can keep
one's soul aloft, where things don't fail and fall.

Morale is such a tricky thing. One hand
holds that, good and bad is how it works.
The other holds self-pity, which is canned,
and false pride, that's grandios, are the jerks

who landlock lives, to stay so spare and sad.
These are entrenched, and toxic to the Soul.
Real effort must be made to dump this bad
machinery, which keeps us from control.

Accomplishment of this is truely real,
but steps exist which must be taken first
before the whole Nirvana thing will feel
like mead Divine, to quench ones cosmic thirst.