What drives such wickedness in life. what pleasure found in hate?

What vile plot of treason, drives them to berate.

Such depths I have fought to wade, stared evil dead in eye.

It’s sinews curl within my heart, tempted so am I.

And now like climber cresting hill, the vista wide before.

yet blackness clouds my mind, my map shows me no more.

I’d written the map o’er years of toil, dreamt of paths anew.

Now the view is clear ahead, I fail to push on through.

Where down life’s drain has gone ambition, drive and wisdom.

The heart of one’s conviction crushed, by hate’s intensive maelstrom.

Am I consumed by hate itself. or am I consuming hate?

Declare I’ve had my fill yet, or beg another plate?

Jock