Liar
Wilderness Road
Several lives ago,
drenched in myself,
wrapped in myself like an onion,
I followed the dark clouds,
And built a life on lies.
Lies are not sustainable,
and the construct collapsed
in on me
and those I love.
When the clouds cleared,
I was naked before the universe,
dowsed in sin.
Shamed.
This would be my drive
for thirty years
to sponge away this mark,
These stains,
the scar.
Time passes and
three lives later
I am not
The Same Man.
Those born since
and those walking alongside
and those that “know me”
do not know
or may not remember.
But from behind these eyes
there is hardly ever a day
I don’t look out through
stains and scars,
shading my vision.
You look and see me.
As I look in the mirror
I may as well have
a red “L” tattooed
on my forehead.
Someday, when I die,
there may be those that do not know,
and there may be some who will cry.
Sweet ones, do not cry.
The world has not lost,
but has expunged
The Liar.
Seek peace,
Paz
Armchair Zen 