My conscience speaks of love,
Of liberty to fly as a dove,
My conscience speaks of pain,
Of losses that lead to gain,
My conscience speaks of...
What not?
Yet my conscience is bespectacled,
With illusion's dust freckled,
That stares at me through glasses unclear
And trembles to see my image in unknown fear
My conscience speaks of soap bubbles
That float in air with colorful troubles
Colors!...
Colors are unknowingly known to my mind
For my conscience is only bespectacled, not blind!
My conscience speaks of you, the beautiful
My conscience speaks of me, the wonderful
Beauty and Wonders!...
My conscience now slumbers
Under dusty spectacles
You are beautiful, my conscience remembers
But you are gone off its tentacles!
My conscience regrets...
