Words are spoken, the air is broken;
Lies are told, yet will Truth unfold.
Here in the whispered state of nature, I seek to find my nomenclature.
Where the words in excess brought, the Truth is there in excess fought.
While we piss away our surplus days, the world erupts with endless craze.
Think we see the Truth itself? My life is laid upon the shelf.
Listen now freind, hearest thou? One way the Truth is ever found…
Amidst the endless corridors of rushing people: evermore,
In the sounds of broken cries, but absent from their endless lies.
The Truth is One, and can be found; He’s absent from the mortal’s sound.
The Spirit in your ears will ring ‘fore e’er your soul to gladness bring.
Not as those below suppose, nor lofty ones who fly like crows.
Truth is judged – by men despised, whom murders in their hearts devised.
And many who assume He’s discerned, find in the end their judgments burned.
Religion, too, is neither spared, for Truth beyond what your reaches cared.
I know not whether loneliness is forever, but to Truth it’s bound: a tether.
Truth is a Friend, He paid His blood to find you.
Christ, my Friend – Deliver us from evil.