Finding Prudence


Where have you been
the son of the wisdom
The home was abandoned in mighty old storms

Where have you been
the daughter of patience
The garden ran riot in ample old rains

The house now stands numb
with walls once adorned of infinite fables

The rooms now hold ice
with desks once so crowded of luminous thoughts

Where have you been
the heiress of insight
the time has grown crucial to settle back in.

The biting truth

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What is up – is it down?
What is left – is it right?
What is red – is it blue?
What is dusk – is it dawn?
What is I – is it we?

The frozen peak knows none of flats
The howling wolf knows none of barks

Glue your facts – which what is warming
Crumble your truth – which what is biting