15. ) Shall I Pave My Path With Pretty Lies?

Shall I pave my path with pretty lies?

Weave my way and line it with outer ease?

Take the wider way and with the world be deceived?

Well, outer-knowledge-shouting taking over

Would do so no more!

What was needed was come, the counting-fall

The difference, telling weeds – from flowers

Weeds – those knowledge-plants that multiplied  

Growing over everything and everywhere

From Flowers – those gladly obeying their given borders

Giving up their lives their hearts true –

Their knowledge of a different kind

That did not need to swarm and be seen

To show their beauty – but even of the truest plants

Older petals fade and fall in time for further

And the old order changeth giving place to new *

For time was and is that weeds from wheat be taken

And truth once despised be raised up, found needed.                

Unless truth was real it would not stand the test

The building that stood was built on blood

The bruised heart that lit the prism, telling real from false

                                        *

* Morte d’Arthur; Alfred Lord Tennyson