The Fountain of Truth
It's a spring eternal,
In the mind of man.
With a perpetual flow,
As if God's master plan.
At times, the waterway,
Gets interrupted and clogged.
Where pressures can build,
Though it's often camouflaged.
Just like busy, little beavers,
Will pack mud and debris.
So too does mankind, though
It's seldom a guarantee.
Yet no matter the obstruction,
Water eventually finds its way.
Though when it bursts, it can flood
Through . . . and ruin a liar's day.
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