Quilt’s Corner

She comes for you, softly, delicately, seeking with blind eyes your familiar form. Invite her in and she will strategically slay your reason.

Her tongue is full of flattery, minting its counterfeit compliments, paying verbal homage to fabricated kings.

She has caught you, O brother! Her lacy tendrils insinuate themselves into your being, excavating, uprooting your honor and integrity.

She is an unfertile mistress, a contagious concubine, who spreads herself through other’s indifference, her mind a barren crib of dead ideas.

And yet you have taken her to bed, thrusting yourself into her in an attempt to sire your own salvation.

Flee her, Brother! for in her right hand are hatred’s poison arrows and in her left, a dagger of lies.

The empty abundance of Ignorance tempts us all.

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