Liar

Standard

Dark spirit
seals my eyes,
hides from me
how wise trees
recall their lusty
summer green.

He says
they’re dead,
and when I die
my pain will end
with his blessed gift
of nothingness.

But I don’t believe
this lie
of passionless
eternal night,

for in my core I feel
tongues of flame,
searing grace
lifting me, spring-like
from winter’s grave!

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