Recipe for False Belief

First, mix in some flutter.

Then, the birthcry of anger.

Then, the smile that masks the

scent of truth with a fallen rationale and love.

Afterward, let a question rise,
and give sweetness its honey.
And stir, and stew, and rouse.

Then, let it rest.

And ask Question if she has become strong

enough to, in the mind, temper Truth.

Then, the aroma of a lie becomes so

pleasant, it delights the heart’s ear.

Then, taste of prejudice —
permeated with rebellion,
infused with desire — and

hate its loveliness.

 

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