We lie... To ourselves

Envious Pride

I have woven my song into a cloak
And have covered it with embroideries of old
Out of old folk tales from folklore
To cover from my head
Down to my toes

My body whole
But the fools with envious pride
Have tide manacles to it
To wear for selfish vanity and arrogant stride.
They have taken infringment
And docked it
At harbors port
So they could flaunt its elegance
To peering eyes
As if they have by design
Cultivated its origin
As if by inheritance
They have gained right
To such a noble
And righteous claim,
Toward honor, integrity and majesty.
For I see now the human condition
How it races to be a thing
Without caring for its essence or substance
How it longs for the love and acceptance
Of righteousness and pureness of innocense
And without regard will abandon their souls
To protect their lie of its sweet origination
How and ever will they vainly attempt
To sing in tones to hold such vowels
Of a song they never learned
To befriend.
To sing in tones that only angels could aqcuire,
A harmony that only honesty, truth and pureness
Of a sweet innocent soul can attain.
It will be known then
To such a noble audience
If not the whole world be lost to greed
That such a song could be wrought
By only that of a soul
Filled from eternal unyeilding prowess for love

And acknowledge without proof
For these are the trechories of humanity.