Will-o'-the-Wisp

I am a perennial gadabout
Who hath lived many lives of man;
I started with a world as flat
Come a full circle whence I began.

Seen the abstinence of the living
And the dying man’s greed;
Watched many a flower turn to stone
Saw many a leaden heart bleed.

Amidst the confusion, the tumult
I read the ailing verses from the Gospel;
My body was strong, my faith weak
I tried in vain to break the Satanic Spell.

Perplexed by the Hobson’s choice
Often I sunk to my knees;
To find ‘neath me a quagmire
The pungent aura of a thousand gadflies.

But the mirage holds erect: pulling me, pushing me,
Forever calling, my fantasy but did persist;
To a Neverland that I know too well
The State of Grace that does not exist.