Demanded a decision
from wisdom never claimed.
Yet to blame for mouth held closed
thus leaving that burden to faith.
Why should the sage be bred?
What would the yields worth
when belief turns numb and the self
sole to speak for?
Thoughts roamed around bleak clouded lanes
where lights decline.
Through grey cold mist heard chained pulsing hearts.
Lost days keep prisoner ghosts, old dreams still cry.
Past unwise deeds wildly sprouted,
hindered routes, when sound's beyond reach.
Once with clear night skies, plain truth's revealed.
Bright days concealed vast fears.
Courtyard's warm brown stones
surround this shelter's sparse mild grass.
Sweet memories in their cloister
while grand cosmic sights call them.
Yesterday, can't hide long in yesterday.
Today claims compliance.
Our thoughts had left their prisons,
sour fruits from long gone actions had
allowed ease to our minds.
How could we blame wise faith's decisions?
