Here is the misunderstanding
The bombs do not explode
But slide in waiting furrows
On the face of the land
Awaiting the compulsion
Of hidden springs
To bloomNor does the lover
Look up and see eyes
That are mirrors
But falls into a stride
And rings like a bell
And waits for days
To burst

Thus the killer
Does not seek a victim,
But an an accomplice
In the intimacy of action
And the thief seeks only a donor
The victim a sponsor
And the master needs only a reason
To expand

The singer builds ears
And God begets sin
And governments plant gardens
That bear deaths and prizes
And revolve upon the seasons
To crush and scream
To be born

Here, then, is the paradox
Truth does not set free
But sinks into the wrinkles
On the faces of the crowd
Awaiting a concensus
Of force and fate
To ignite

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