Truth stays
naïve
As reality
profanes
The price of
fidelity
Unpaid
till inflamed
Truth often
hides
With its head
in the sand
Until forced
into play
A new crisis
— at hand
(The New Room: August, 2024)
Categories:
profanes, truth,
Form: Rhyme
While glorifying God and singing his praise,
To behold one of his not-so-generous creations, I amaze,
For an unclothed toddler condemned to a footpath
Simply arrests my unflinching gaze.
Of the tallest high-rises and even towering prides
And those who have been blessed by the divine’s might,
The one that catches my eye,
is the damned little painful sight.
For he does not know what his forbidden life may hold
And that for a few coins and some food he has been sold,
To the venomous hands of fate
That profanes this naked life to fight this chilling cold.
For no wrong of his, he has submitted to the destiny’s knife
And complied to fall into this abysmal strife,
Such is the ambiguity of it,
Such is the inscrutable truth of life.
This cringe that I now feel forces me to regard
The precious gift of life that overcomes every wrath
And thank God for I’m not the unclothed toddler
The one condemned to a footpath.
Categories:
profanes, life, sorry, sympathy, life,
Form: Rhyme