Perjury

The revering blind

hold on to a recurring fantasy

of having their tangible bonds

melted down,

in the crimson gold foliage

then eke out what little awe is left

in its late fragrance.

A final fall,

in twos,
from a greater height

than the relentless respite

of a half-truth

lost to the nocturnal abyss

of a bruised mind,

broken and shattered  

into the moonlight-
an unquiet riot

ravaging  the still heaviness

pouring down
in plain sight...with no need
for footnotes

I’m holding  my own breath

to restore the balance of  faith

while under the same oath.

After and before thoughts

become bolder than the pretend vows

and repaired wrong-doings

we have learned to savor

together 

with the packed lying 

of hope.