Bound to confusion, <br />enchanted by lore, <br />specific, in order, <br />antecedents of war. <br /> <br />Conflict, creation, <br />a matter of strife, <br />dynamic illusions, <br />to darken the life. <br /> <br />And peril awaits, <br />as honor implies, <br />but tries to deceive, <br />what failure belies. <br /> <br />Patience surrenders, <br />when trust will ignite, <br />lost like the jester, <br />who sees without sight. <br /> <br />No fronts to guard, <br />no faith to neglect, <br />this battle is ours, <br />to claim and protect. <br /> <br />Theosophy knows, <br />and theosophy tries, <br />but who can you trust, <br />when theosophy lies. <br /> <br />So clearly the victor, <br />is all but decided. <br />and what you are reading, <br />is what they have recited <br /> <br />To children, and lovers, <br />and families the same, <br />who struggle to breath, <br />when choked by the shame, <br /> <br />That we are martyrs, <br />and we are the laws, <br />yet we are the judges, <br />to that which we cause. <br /> <br />And so, within caution, <br />we fasten the locks, <br />for these are the keys, <br />to Pandora's Box. <br /> <br />© S.E.S<br /><br />Sara Stowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pandora-s-box-3/
