In life, denial ...
Penned of gossamer propensity,
words of shimmering veils
do usher past the flagrant wrongs,
denied in ego’s sacred keep;
and truth tip-toes upon eggshells cracked,
afraid the penance in wait,
clawed hands in desperate plea of light,
can but shred a pretended spite.
For truth under a parlous guile,
can only be its intended being,
and regardless of the cloaks and veils,
its burning reality palpable;
but whosoever wishes denial,
diaphanous silken lies disarm,
and none sees what lay beneath,
the devastation of broken dreams.
Words erupt in myriad clouds,
in stories or truth construed from souls,
often of lies and tales bent,
some so real and extravagant;
But rendered from a soul of truth,
words emit much more than pain,
a glass of red and a good soul fed,
keeps minds once lost, to salvation’s view.
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