No fixed abode

There is no path to truth.
It comes to you;
in a dream, in a gesture,
in squalor and beauty.
It lies behind the vagary of thought.
Truth is a state of mind;
timeless, ephemeral.
It resides within a fallen leaf, a rolling tear;
living in the moment, with no fixed abode.

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Black is the Badge

When our eyes met, with rose tint hue
Things would not be the same
When our lips met, we two both knew
They were to meet again
Across the miles, my thoughts held on
To our next rendezvous
When we could hold each other tight
Dream dreams of me and you
Our dreams become reality
And still across the miles
My thoughts turn to the two of us
Our hearts both in denial
For what we both envisioned then
Was lasting love for life
Yet quick turned sour like milktop cream
Stirred thick with blood and strife
The poison courses, conquering veins
Where once emotion ran
And sees an end to all our gains
No more our fortune can
Without your love to guide me now
I am but burning shell
From sulfurous glowing of my fire
Black is the badge of hell

I’ve borrowed a few words here from Shakespeare and the like 🙂