Shall
I pave my path with pretty lies?
Weave
my way and line it with outer ease?
Take
the wider way and with the world be deceived?
Well, outer-knowledge-shouting taking over
Would do so no more!
What
was needed was come, the counting-fall
The
difference, telling weeds – from flowers
Weeds
– those knowledge-plants that multiplied
Growing
over everything and everywhere
From
flowers – those gladly obeying their given borders
Giving up their lives their
hearts true
Their knowledge of a different kind...
Their knowledge of a different kind...
That
did not need to swarm and be seen
To
show their beauty... but even of the truest plants
Older
petals fade and fall in time for further
‘And the old order changeth giving
place to new’
For
time was and is that weeds from wheat be taken
And
truth once despised be raised up, found needed
Unless truth was real it would not stand the test
The
building that stood was built on blood
The
bruised heart the lit prism, telling real from false
*
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