Estuaries Of Truth

Remain still do statues
where man’s might grew
to enshrine his vanity in
things he once knew.

My mind makes me joy,
my mind makes me me.
As blood pumps for now
as if some gentle estuary.

Troubled waters I battle
to seduce me some calm.
I do so so to heal it quick
so the scars will be gone.

I know not but my dreams
I know not by my eyes
that search forever so sad;
they were witness to lies.

Now I am poisoned aghast
by a drop of rain it does dry;
the earth lives so tortured
and cries as it slowly dies.

My vision is my intuition
and I flow close to the truth.
My heart concedes to this
life where none try to soothe.

They will just honor lies
in the end so says God.
So I don’t speak or move
for it is all way too odd.

But I lord over this peace
that springs from within
because truth is fleeting bye;
why does doubt settle in?

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