The Choice Unspoken

Through your heart, two lands go—
One too deep, the other too bold.
What do you choose?
The tatters of leaves, or muds of gold?

Reckon we already know:
Truth is uncomfortable, so lies are sold.
Let’s paint the glasses all gold—
She won’t see it now,
It won’t be known.
By the time she awakes,
The gold will be blown.

And where do I stand?
Searching for trees in my sands,
Where dry winds keep me quenched.
And it’s not the honest truth—
That one day truth will be known.
By the time she awakes,
We will all be gone.