something of my own
forgotten far of(f) home
ever while we stand
in the dark and sunken gloam
all the day long
in the light of the silence
the ways of our world
might not creep up behind us
causing us to become
ways not good to be had
all the day long
in the world to be sad
all the day long
in the light of the silence
the ways of our world
might not overtake and re-blind us
leading down paths
without merit on whim
all the day long
in a mind-sunken blend
all these things, are they plain?
weighing down so on your brain
all the things you ‘think’ you know?
forever with you wherever you go
have you ever wondered ‘high’ –
the things you believe, are they right?
things that people taught you so
some from near, some long ago?
created ideas formed in their heads
held to by them as truth instead
of what things might be true
if one could find them – past purviews
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