before time and death
the first lie was born
thus love became guilt
beauty became sin
and sacred the language of oppression
but the birds don’t care
the cows don’t seem to notice
and day after day the bees perform their dance between the blossoms
and the oak
the mighty oak
it knows that spring is coming sooner every year
but still it breathes
because its roots reach back beyond the darkness of a formless earth
beyond the lie
where there is no confession
Spring
