The Isolating Lie of Learning Another

The self is heard only from the womb of still waters,

Bared only by the sunderings of living deaths.

You cannot gift what remains undiscovered.

You wear a barren character,

Lie and fear-swept;

Into the mud of the flock, it crept.

The space between souls asleep in the arms of their guilt -

A muting distance spans the truth behind their clay and silt.

You are the breathing mystery.

To be is to deceive.

What calls out from beneath the dream of being?

What lies beyond the mask of man?

The everything and the nothing at all.

To be is to deceive.

Suspended in a breathless absence floats the solitary cry;

This is the depthless chasm where all trust and intimacy die.

I have wept, and I have mourned before each curtain torn, 

the ruin of a wish lain quartered at my feet.

For what I longed to find there, beyond meek curtsies and Trojan stares, 

was but the froth of hungers most hidden.

Not known to you, your burden now mine, to wrestle with your beast of no name -

Dubbed it must be, your ego its key, golden illusions dissolve only by His black flame.

Unlocked must it be, exalted is He;

Spell its coded call with the burial of your vanity and shame.

You are the breathing mystery.

To be is to deceive.

What calls out from beneath the dream of being?

What lies beyond the mask of man?

The everything and the nothing at all.

To be is to deceive.