A secret kept is a secret death-
Mourning for papers never found.
It is the lock upon the door that tests
Whether truth is truth at all.
I see pillars of ancient man
Rising toward the gods for light
As if the light could shatter all
And conquer the Devil's eager plight.
But no, I have reached for truth
Only to find it more hideous and vile
Than the darkest night set forth by hate;
A veil thin yet strong enough for bait.
Within the Shangri-la, heaven or whatever it may be
A shadow hovers above hungry for blood,
The people beneath are more cursed than others
For they have found false truth or a fool's gold.
They hide this fake gold beneath their lives
Cherishing it, worshiping it, loving it-
For it shows them only what they want shown
And not their decline into a spiraling pit.
That's what lies beneath the emblem of truth,
A web of lies concealed through the ages
That stains the next generations again and again
And melts the godliness off Bible pages.
