Through the Windowsill of Mind

I am lifted up but then I fall,

The persisting past makes mockery

Of present tense yet through it all

Some act of God protecting me.

How is it that I cannot rise

Above a certain lowly state

A place that soul and heart despise

Yet still to which I gravitate.

Will I have the strength, unfailing will

To categorically refuse

The thoughts that through the windowsill

Of mind wreak still their vain abuse?