Sonnet III

In the darkness where my soul does exist
Away from the din and toil of living,
The place where I go when I am pissed,
When I see no reason for forgiving,
I find the illusion of solitude,
A ruse I play upon myself to make
Me think that I have been ever so shrewd.
Truth of the matter is there's more at stake
Than a mere respite from irritation,
Because in this dark and most sacred place
I find myself in a situation
Where I must confront the presence of grace
And to decide to join in creation
Or devote myself to profanation