STALE,HATED CONSCIENCE

Your stale and hated conscience,

once bold in youthful flare,

in old age turned a burden,

too heavy now to bear.

No judgment, no tribunal calls,

only your tainted soul’s unrest,

justice has waited long in dark,

to shine again in truth confessed.

For so it goes with justice fair,

it always finds, with steady eye,

the zealous one who hides behind

a veil of falsehood and a lie.

No need to write, nor waste our speech,

on how the world now stands today,

when conscience stirs from sleep again,

our fragile knowledge fades away.

So let us write, spend every word,

with tireless pen and ink’s pure flare,

that truth has not abandoned us,

and lies still flee before its glare.

— A.J.