The Flood

Where hides the wise man who’s every word uttered is entirely true
In the deepest and darkest cave of the thickest of forests perhaps
Or on an island yet discovered by another person who carries lies
Possibly walking through the dunes of the arid desert with his camel
He disguises himself well, like a chameleon on a branch of honesty

The tall and flamboyant cathedrals have been searched thoroughly
Not a corner of the temples and mosques remain unsighted
In search of he that has lived by what is preached daily, weekly
Yearly of for many centuries that they have indoctrinated
The very listeners who try to gather more, regardless of truth

Loud they shout, the readers of the books that dictate virtues
That are inherent in every new-born child, the nature of truth
Untouched and scarred by the teaching of this bizarre way of life
Where more is important, regardless of the cost to all affected
And those who are not, the innocent bystanders seeing the flood

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