"Truth"

A garden of macabre delights,
through a window pane found looking
a young man pricks his eye.

Those blind in their fervor
and hungry in their love
for gold plated windows of truth
will find nothing
but the rot encrusted mold
of a reality colder than winter blast.

Faces of fortune grasp the fragile vase
and carefully carry it to the cliff
to shatter it
blind eyes seek fire to burn them out
rather than absorb truth
the will to truth you say?
the will to truth is built upon pillars of falsehoods

the child laughs in mockery of the wolf stripped bare
chuckles at the bleeding leg in the vice trap

this is freedom?