The blade of truth
Twists in my side
More and more these days.

And not for fear of
Pride or power
Or chapeled tatters
Wanderously wrapped
About a masked truth

But much like
the salmon

Mysteriously compelled
To boomerrang the
Veins in which they spawned.
A sacred certain death.

Not to EMULATE the universe

Such a fools errand it is
To complicate
What comes naturally

No,        
But to HONOR it.