Old Masks
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They never change
These vassals of venom
If only their cups could hold love
Instead of water
Then gardens could bloom in valleys and deserts
As the seeds of love traverse the oceans
Yet they chose to poison the wine
That spreads humanities love
Old men set in their ways
Lost, like fishermen at sea
Floundering for redemption
One day
We shall remove their masks
And rejoice
Love at long last
Notes:
Recently being in the hospital and not knowing if I would get out, I had dreams of both gardens and nightmares, I guess the best way to sum it up, is the garden of good and evil.
Romans 3:13
13Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit; the venom of vipers is on their lips; 14their mouths are full of cursing and of bitterness;…
Copyright © Arthur Vaso | Year Posted 2017
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