I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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The Last Disobedience

In the circumference of this brooding night,

When once-lost history’s found a living thing

And strange abstraction forms a perfect sense,

All words hang limp, unused upon my tongue.

Compassed in the silence of small-houred faith,

Whose words should I heed on this seedless soil?

No wise man, nor his star-eyed pilgrimage,

Convinces me his objective exists.

If I should close my eyes and walk the dark,

Saint and sinner would have me follow blind.


In the circumference of this brooking route,

As the clock strikes that most solitary hour

And even fact a wary aspect wears,

I veil these dead and dying in the dust

Whose dynasts ever reign among the graves.

Then so reduced, the ruin of their truth

Cannot explain the source of my denial;

Within a soul that harvested surmise

This notion’s sparked and yet no trouble’s born.

The seven candle flames are burning low.


In the circumference of this breaking light,

Untouched by human error, nor revered

By those who father guilt, do not forgive,

I contemplate the nature of defeat.

Yet had I known that death’s decaying hand

Would pierce the mortal point of the charade

Then I should not have cursed a bastard act.

But, seething like creation’s breast, I burst,

Explode at the assumption I cannot

Remove the burden baptism has bestowed.


In the circumference of this breeding doubt

The poignant thought belatedly arrives,

In time to resurrect my fossilled heart,

All truth is forced to live inside a lie.

From sudden revelation’s planted seed

Was blossomed first the act and then the need -

Crossing continents at the speed of love

To places temptation takes female form,

Before this new-found faith could fall from grace

I found myself disciple to a dream.