To the Death

The silk of night may pass unblemished,
by those choosing recumbent blindness,
safely retaining secrets locked,
'neath the veil of consensual ignorance.

A stone unturned shall shadow keep,
from scrutiny of judgement's glare,
yet no defence hath passers by,
from that which they are unaware.

Reining in shallow hypocrisy,
of the commoner's strident call,
a task worthy of ancient gods,
and goddesses before their fall.

So undisturbed, diluted and clean,
conscience lets slumber lie,
to nightly pass conceited dreams,
whose dreams of dreams must surely die.

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