Gift of the Lost

Shallow image

Shallow love

Truth is but a word;

A morsel devoured

a jewel in the maw

a pearl before swine.

Better yet, a blade

wrought of cold metal

wielded by brethren

cutting down their kin.

Tool of the vicious

Gift of the lost

It rips across the heart

and hark we not

the resounding image in the deep

seeing no reflection

but true lies of false truth

For who are we

but what we make ourselves to seem?

And who is so great of reach

as may touch this glitt’ring thing?

Hardly is his hand below the water

but proclaims he dredged the mud

The shallow image of shallow love

Reflections of echoes

None may touch or deem

For thus are we ourselves:

the failure to redeem.

Truth is but a word

The throat swallows

The kindred fall

Tool of the vicious

Gift of the lost