By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Interesting how deceit remains,
far beyond a parlour game.
Illicit thoughts and greed abstain,
living in subconscious frame.
We are polite and compassionate,
feeling pious not obstinate.
Open to the hearts of men,
their plight not judged a facile trend.
But deep inside deceit takes hold,
our views are tainted, our motives old.
The truth resides within ourselves,
misunderstood it weaves and delves.
Seeking path to knowledge found,
it tries to surface and voice resounds.
Tell us who we really are,
with the conviction of truth it will not mar.
We are a best-kept mystery,
with all the scars, bias and liability.
To know us true with no pretence,
inside a man of abstinence.
There is a key like no other,
to open men their self discover.
It is pure love that wills the search,
the temple of truth their chosen church.
Once understood our deceitful days,
become our conscious mending ways.
Be true to oneself becomes the pledge,
and deceit does cower our message read.
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