There are the braggarts,
rising like common phantoms of the night:
they summon a light that never once
came from the breath of God,
forged with fervor their own trembling throne
built only of ashes and illusions.
They do not know
that the mountain they value so fiercely
crumbles like salt in the sea—
a monument of dreams, hollow to the core.
And there are the deceivers,
growing fat like wandering spirits
raining strange weeds
into the hearts of those they ensnare.
They unleash cutting whispers,
staining the names of the innocent,
and tightening the soul
with vines of stories
that have no root in truth.
They are the flickering shadows
that slither upon the path
of the unwary and the unarmed,
bending the mind,
dimming the light.
But even in the smallest sliver of dawn—
even at the edge of the longest night—
a heavenly fire enters,
and the daylight crowns of the arrogant
fall apart into gray dust.
The lies that sought to wound
are revealed like the fumes
of a corrupted ritual—
empty, powerless,
unable to stand before the face of truth.
For truth, though they bury it
under rumor, under schemes, under the weight of their deceit,
remains like a stone
in the heart of the river:
it cannot be lost,
cannot be forgotten,
and cannot be blinded
by the forged reflections
of those who gather
in the kingdom of lies.
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 7:25 PM UTC
There are the braggarts,
rising like common phantoms of the night:
they summon a light that never once
came from the breath of God,
forged with fervor their own trembling throne
built only of ashes and illusions.
They do not know
that the mountain they value so fiercely
crumbles like salt in the sea—
a monument of dreams, hollow to the core.
And there are the deceivers,
growing fat like wandering spirits
raining strange weeds
into the hearts of those they ensnare.
They unleash cutting whispers,
staining the names of the innocent,
and tightening the soul
with vines of stories
that have no root in truth.
They are the flickering shadows
that slither upon the path
of the unwary and the unarmed,
bending the mind,
dimming the light.
But even in the smallest sliver of dawn—
even at the edge of the longest night—
a heavenly fire enters,
and the daylight crowns of the arrogant
fall apart into gray dust.
The lies that sought to wound
are revealed like the fumes
of a corrupted ritual—
empty, powerless,
unable to stand before the face of truth.
For truth, though they bury it
under rumor, under schemes, under the weight of their deceit,
remains like a stone
in the heart of the river:
it cannot be lost,
cannot be forgotten,
and cannot be blinded
by the forged reflections
of those who gather
in the kingdom of lies.
Beware of these people. They will break you.
Beware not to be like these people, lest you break others.
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