from the collection, Reflections: Personal Jigsaw Puzzle Pieces © 2001


If an innocent man
Dreams that he is fallen,
And trudges through
Black lies of deceit
And betrayal;


If he fancies himself
A murd’er on the run,
Deep in hiding —
Suspect, and trusting
Of no one;


I ask you, when sunlight
Finds him deep within his
Fitful slumber,
And calls out for him
To awaken,


And at last
He feels the morning
Upon his eyelids —
The song of birds
In his ears,


Will he not awaken
To knowledge that he
Believed in illusions,
That his innocence
Remains unchanged?



return to A Museum of Thought


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