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Beetles creep & earthworms writhe
In soil and leafage mould
Where men, in towers' ivory
Broach loud and souls are sold.
Honesty and purity
Enflower places plain
But pompousness and leather hearts
Merely promulgate distain.
Distancing the words, effete,
Conjure portals cold
Whilst wallowing in self esteem
Seldom glints of gold.
Instead the psalms of simple chime
The bells of true release,
Where meek and mild and unposessed
sweat blood and bleed for peace.
Where the stroke of brush, unfettered,
Lets the masterpiece unfold,
And children sit enthralled, only,
When tales of truth are told.

M.
Prodded to invoke a response to Darrell Landstrom's trenchant verse
"Oh Friends of Twilight"
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