Between the lines, between the words
Much more is said than ever heard
Between the page and writerâ€™s pen
Is more than ink spread all too thin.
Between the breath and sound of voice
Thereâ€™s something said, unheard by choice
Between the hands is more than touch
â€˜Tis more than flesh thatâ€™s felt as such
And, oh, the mysteries that go untold,
The riddles that never will unfold,
The poems that never were put to rhyme,
The songs that are sung in unsynchronized time.
How long can a man live with misunderstanding
While others for answers can be so demanding?
Men are so vague and women elude
The unaked truth which they fear to d e n u d e. <<<spam filtered
Lies all disguise the conceited deceit
And the blasphemous hearts that drool
as they eat at themselves.
The shells of dead oysters are much like the cloisters
Where monksâ€™ well-thought wisdom is kept from the world.
The long-wasted meat will spoil the pearls.
When will we learn to live in the truth?
Or would that set us fighting by nail and by tooth?
Alas, alas, we cannot survive
As emotionless drones constructing the hive,
Coexisting in labor with never a doubt,
No difference of thought, no quarrels fought out.
But neither does love have hand in their birth.
Only sperm and an egg have mechanical worth.
With love there must also be opposite hate
To steal our lives from destiny fate.
Thereâ€™s a shadow of truth in the riddles we play,
And as always the dusk leads the dawn of the day.
Thereâ€™s a glint of a lie in the truths that we tell,
And as always thereâ€™s limbo â€˜tween heaven and hell.