A poem about: All narratives corrupt. From loud…

All narratives corrupt. From loud podiums usurpers of free will shout their lies and condemn. Their words they shout louder than thunder, alluring and feeding. voices spitting out murder,to the masse and consumes them. Like a chant of war the chorus sung by the misled rises to deafening Yet her whispered say will silence even louder From her bornspring wells ,sooth speaknspell,Oh Water water in her well. Who could sever what she speaks and with what steely or brazen sword ? Who would pierce her deep and deep.Her lips can't move as fast as theirs that lie but her truth was spoken long before they had ever cried. Hark soothsayer ever once before the dam breaks forth and you die inside to be that you were never Tell that you would choose your sword to defend innocence not yours and your voice to pray or grace the benevolent whom save from the cobalt deep the babble that is brooked and wile the chant, and fallen too. Swords of the slain crumble . Rust Tha color of fall. Deeper the winter and ther river is ice Truth she vespyrs . Your rivers you spill into the sea The poison you speak you pay for you see.She held water in one hand and the wind in the other She born in the language within the myst of on high places In heaven and on earth below her speaknspell concurred with fate's decree, a silent plea, She asked them Oh tellme do oh tell me true Would you , Set aside, the world's decreeHer soul, both dark and true echoes, a fading sound,Lost in the depths, of Her Mother Mem where the secrets of mysteries ,in the eternal cobalt sea are bound .

In the seething storm of voices raised,
Usurpers claim the stage,
Their lies like thunder pierce the skies,
In a furious, blinding rage.

But amidst the chaos, a whisper stirs,
From a spring of quiet grace,
A truth that weaves through timeless threads,
In Her gentle, hidden space.

The louder lies may wound the air,
Their echoes cold and vast,
Yet Her whispered truth, both dark and fair,
Was spoken first and last.

The dam will break, the storm will cease,
The river shall reclaim,
Her waters speak of ancient peace,
The fallen rise, unchained.

With hand in hand, the wind, the sea,
In Her mystic spell entwined,
From heaven's heights to earth's deep plea,
Her soul, both fierce and kind.

O, let the tone of innocence,
Through love's unyielding sword,
Pierce the shadowed veils of chance,
And set aside the world's accord.

For in the cobalt depths—the sea,
Where Her secrets hold the shore,
The eternal whispers echo free,
Lost and found forevermore.

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In the seething storm of voices raised, Usurpers claim the stage, Their lies like thunder pierce the skies, In a furious, blinding rage. But amidst the chaos, a whisper stirs, From a spring of quiet grace, A truth that weaves through timeless threads, In Her gentle, hidden space. The louder lies may wound the air, Their echoes cold and vast, Yet Her whispered truth, both dark and fair, Was spoken first and last. The dam will break, the storm will cease, The river shall reclaim, Her waters speak of ancient peace, The fallen rise, unchained. With hand in hand, the wind, the sea, In Her mystic spell entwined, From heaven's heights to earth's deep plea, Her soul, both fierce and kind. O, let the tone of innocence, Through love's unyielding sword, Pierce the shadowed veils of chance, And set aside the world's accord. For in the cobalt depths—the sea, Where Her secrets hold the shore, The eternal whispers echo free, Lost and found forevermore.