Deceived

Watcher by the gate,
beware the time, it's getting late.
Maybe we tarry, singing stones,
or laying fate,
perhaps the season makes us wait;
for something.
By hedgerow the weeping devil stands,
with horn and hoof, with pipes in hand,
a greenshade slipping o'er the land,
an hourglass of slipping sand;
forever running.
What evil doth the demon make,
by flight of bird or coil of snake,
whatever form the spell may take,
whatever hex the spell may break,
evil from it none may take;
unless by choosing.
So, what's false, or maybe real,
our, dim light, cannot reveal,
the Truth, our Reason tries to steal,
Simplicity, our Senses will conceal,
and social drive us there to kneel;
before the judges.
Who are They, who'er may be,
would loose our blood to set us free,
would blind our eyes to make us see;
their justice.
T'would lead us on to ever grieve,
and softly whisper to believe,
the ghosts and shadows They concieve,
as answer to, or to relieve,
the lies They tell us to decieve;
and leave us spellbound.
No mischief yet by cut or blow, or open threat,
all is veiled, the traps are set,
all truth is hidden, so we forget,
till all we know, or ever learned,
is turned to lingering regret;
or disregarded.
Unknowingly, we've all Agreed,
to allow ourselves to be deceived.