LAST CYCLE © 2008
The world does not respect,
The truth hides in the shadows,
Like a cloak of secrecy, that dazzles us in castles.
In ancient corners, where truth rests,
Those who hear it in silence, in quiet reverence.
They gesture in reverence, in the shadow of its grandeur,
But glory, that light that streaks the air with skill,
Only illuminates the soul in writing, a persistent curse,
Carved in memory, where forgetfulness resists.