Poem 39 Revised

Smoky mirrors speak the telescope
Through a lens into the eye,
Where the scholar tracking sunspots
Blots the good bookwith a lie.
Bind a mind up with its learning
Ink him on the page
Sew the spine with righteousness
Postpone the modern age.
The sun and moon traverse the earth
With blood we write these truths,
Upon the crown of every man;

No matter, she still moves.
–ECW

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