Qustuckandry. (Sonnet) Poem by Dan Reynolds

QuSTUCKandry. (Sonnet)

So, wrestling with a conscience, which can't lose,
may seem a rather fruitless waste of time
Can you be damned, whichever route you choose
or saved because you sought the path sublime?

Can you look in the pool, cut short your gaze.?
Look through your inverse image and beyond
Discern the muddied depths from cloud-wrapped haze
and there transcend to some celestial pond?

Have you the will, the passion for this quest?
Do sinews of your thoughts pull terse and bleed?
Whose sword is it that puts you to the test?
To seek the selfless act, may still be greed.

Play not the muse's fruit machine, my son.
The poet slot, is not a happy one.