It is this way

It is this way,

you know;

it is this way and

so I no longer fight

or try to bring 

the broom of awful change.


It is this way

from the residue of time

that makes this 

what it is and the

risk of trying to divert

its crumbled history may bring 

what nobody seems to want,

or many fear might come to be.


It is this way

in the habits that

bind as tightly as new rope

and become the treasured patterns 

that we believe must be right,

even if they are convenient lies

retold ad nauseam in the guise of truth.


It is this way,

brazenly before the face of 

the Bocca della Verità,

the Mouth of Truth that

sits in ancient marble judgement on

all who lie or twist the truth

to suit a life or fit

the comfort zone,

avoiding what is too hard

to admit or most easy to ignore.


It is this way:

the repeated line that

echoes a judgement 

that some may hear

but most convert

to the cost of living or

the pledge of outright denial.