Reluctant writer- Compulsive thinker

Its a wonder how the old vices are leaving

But I fear the new ones, that might creep in
I know that I have not turned into a saint,
darkness looms large in the pictures I paint
I do try, and I know how much I strive,
anything more from it I do not claim to derive
This journey I have undertaken is not on a road less traveled
To walk on this path for all is preordained
Who came before and who after is not my concern here
I want to keep walking until what is Real is no longer surreal