The Lying Truth


My days are exuberant,
Though it astonishes below mellow lights,
It captivates my great,
It takes me home when I am sick,
Keeps me wild amidst the tame,

Blessed am I who can escape,
Wielding words, songs and paint,
I owe it all without a doubt,
To the little I fair wake,

These days are not luciferous,
Full of light they are not,
And when darkening shadows awake,
Their puffery lingering is sought,

But what I have heeds the fear,
A gleed to keep me warm,
The thought that it shall stay,
And once again bestow,
And exuberant day,

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