Sentience

The honest king knows no song

He knows no summer

No home

No lie

 

The jester knows no sorrow

Nor mirth. Nor truth

.Not even hate

Festers in his heart of late

 

The old woman up the hill

Knows all, but little else

Knowing not of tomorrow

But knows God, like her own

 

The beggar begs, knowing little

Knowing he has nothing

That nothing is good

Knows he is good for now

 

The evil sparrow

The feeling in my bone’s marrow

The swan song in my heart

I know

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