Before the disillusionment

This poem sort of fits my mood just now, as my naivety , believing that honesty is rewarded, is destroyed. We can go looking for the truth, but we may not always like what we find. It’s not always pretty. This was written when I wished to know more, when I wanted to understand. Now I do know more and there will no doubt be more to learn, but I cannot say I truly understand.


In night’s green haze she sits, she waits
For shafts to seize upon,
To swim and squirm in pools of light
That come with each new dawn.
The canopy of leaves that cool
The floor beneath her feet
Screen harsher beams that burn too bright
On flesh so pale and sweet.
All at the once she’d bare full glare
If foliage were to fail,
But evergreen’s the canopy
That shields her heart, her soul.
A little at a time she creeps
’Cross debris feeding roots,
A little at a time she nears
Each clearing, hid from view.
Inquisitive, ’til day she dies
She seeks for naught but truth,
As Wisdom tries to shield the source
Of solar’s harshest rays.

Paths lead left and paths lead right
To climes less harsh and bleek,
But in those sites she knows her heart
Will still set out to seek
The places far, the corners near
Where Others cannot leave.
The fiercest winds, the coldest snows,
The burning deserts’ suns
Feed more the soul of honest hearts
Than peaceful, quiet fields;
So central track, less well defined
By tread of hordes before
Becomes her dark, yet dappled tour
Through forests deep and wild;
Chasing beams of fractured light
That merge as trees disperse
Reveal the plains not meant for all
Kept hidden from the crowd.
Exposed, bereft of leafy shade
Her Wisdom sits and waits.

This entry was posted in Art, Universal truths. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>