His lips utter the words of his long lost masters,
His mind though feeling the caressing arms of his alluring concubines
She fondles the hair of her lover, looking deeply into his eyes,
Seeing in his eyes the diamonds he had promised.
The healer holds the dying man’s arms
Uttering words of faith, giving him hope,
Knowing fully well that the cancer would devour him
He consoles the young widow with deceiving appeal,
The blood not even having dried from his murderous fingers.
The flatterers blow verses of praise into the ears of the vain man,
Who throws worthless gold for these empty words
Is there no one who seeks the truth?
However bitter, however sweet,
Isn’t it that which will satiate the hunger
Of the restless unappeased inner soul?
1 comment:
Perhaps tis because people are more interested in what they want to be true, rather than the truth itself.
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