I am unable to say yes or no,
For I am a soul who listens to help.
Then a fate is met which I conceal
From the soul wandering in the wilderness.
Dull-eyed men and women cannot behold
Truth or beauty in its many forms.
So let beginnings be the birth of a crucifixion,
I will behead the souls wondering about peace.
The lie is sold to those in heaven and hell,
Yet I am no truth forgotten, nor a truth told.
My surrendering is vital to the forms of gold,
And silver, and bronze, and all metals right.
I have myself and all it contains, the whispering
Undoes the mischief when I undertake a lie.