Dark rivers run past Eden’s shores
around that evil-luminned sword
held up by superstitious mores
and guaranteed by unborn lord.
They congregate in spiteful pools,
auspicious currents undertow,
and muddle lives of many fools
their feet sucked in subconscious flow.
They flood the cities, flood the plain,
bog down the streets and settled mind.
Imagined good – our mortal stain.
Our truth –> alone <– the seeker’s find.
