/semaine gratuitementPoème #5286
Inner Fraying
The empty promise, softly spun,
A silken thread that starts to fray,
Reveals the darkness, one by one,
As truth gives way to disarray.
The judgment keen, the cutting word,
A careless slight, a whispered lie,
From deep within, these thoughts are stirred,
Beneath a cold and watchful eye.
It is the malice, sharp and deep,
That sours grace and taints the soul,
The secrets that the conscience keeps,
Beyond the body's pure control.
For true defilement finds its source
In the spirit's troubled, inward course.
A silken thread that starts to fray,
Reveals the darkness, one by one,
As truth gives way to disarray.
The judgment keen, the cutting word,
A careless slight, a whispered lie,
From deep within, these thoughts are stirred,
Beneath a cold and watchful eye.
It is the malice, sharp and deep,
That sours grace and taints the soul,
The secrets that the conscience keeps,
Beyond the body's pure control.
For true defilement finds its source
In the spirit's troubled, inward course.
Invite : What make a man unclean is what comes out from him
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