Staring out past rooftop and treeline
Into the stoney-blue Illinois skies,
Waving like fields of heather,
Clouds in ever-shifting disguise:
Beauty is the lullaby that soothes
After the dark surprise.
Truth is the root that defiantly grows
Through the blackened ash of exposed lies.
In the consummation of Beauty and Truth,
Love inhales, and opens her eyes.
viewingcamelot 
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