The Mask Of Truth Poem by Ronni ManoaHofbauer

Honesty is a river, clear and wide,
Its waters flow, no secrets to hide.
It carves its path through stone and clay,
A steady current, lighting the way.

Dishonesty is a fog that creeps,
A veil of shadows where silence sleeps.
It twists and turns, a labyrinth deep,
A fleeting whisper the heart must keep.

Truth is a tree, its roots running deep,
Each branch a promise it vows to keep.
Its leaves flutter in the wind's embrace,
Standing tall in the light of grace.

Lies are like vines that wind and crawl,
Entangling truth, then letting it fall.
They cling and twist, their thorns dig in,
Until the roots of truth wear thin.

Honesty is a flame, burning bright,
A beacon of warmth in the darkest night.
Dishonesty is smoke, rising high,
Blurring the stars in the endless sky.

So truth stands firm, as solid as stone,
While lies dissolve, to dust unknown.
In the end, the river will always be
The only path to set you free.