Control of self

Dysplasia of mind.
Often I wonder how I loose track of my thoughts.
They wonder down strange pathways -
through sludge and gravel, coarse sediment
it travels.
Am I doing something wrong?
Have I missed something?
The ultimate essence and glimmering obvious.

Where is my faith?
The wispy rope that flickers -
beyond all congested blinks,
buzz,
irritating blighter.
I rumble and flip, finding its

beauty.

I wait upon my self to see again its
grace.

Help me overcome my unbelief.