Commère of Truth
By Myra Lochner
I write a poem in purple mourning. There is no greater sorrow than that of the Sun, cold in gray clouds, with bleeding tears of fruitless barrenness which cannot save your desolated desert. Oh, what dark task to be commère of Truth when Love is not enlightment, but condemned to bitterness, confession and at last confusion! Oh, how to call upon conclave to seek conciliation, hope and sweetness if beauty is discarded for the grave and honesty gives way to death's dark lie ... myra 2002Losing Love to the Lie Written February 21st, 2002 © on Feb 20 2002 08:00 PM PST, Myra Lochner sad • love
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"I write a poem in purple mourning...."