It is bright
The lie of today
That warps the conscience
Strange by its own quality
A lie can be soothing at times.
It is dark
The truth of today
That entraps the ego
Strange by its own quality
A truth can painful at times.
between the bright lie and dark truth
Lies the shady gray
Silently playing a game so gentle
A generation may die a slow death.
The game of gray
Deathliest of all
Gentle divine enchanting
But.......
©cyclopseven 040415.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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An enchanting poem, Cy. Love your play with words; bright, dark and grey!