I stood looking, hands hanging down
Not knowing how to overcome the animosity within.
Passion so deep – made of pure pain – rises to be heard, but is mute.
Voice is useless, baseless noise and the broken sounds fall on defensive guilt.
The wounded heart retreats.
But the light still streaks through crevices of the mind,
Streaming into the little places of insight.
Are the shadows too large for the tiny spark?
Give me something to burn and I will lift the veil.
Show me the keystone and I will tumble the tower.
The destruction cannot be won.
Collapse will begin when the conspiracy fails.
All truth becomes experience.