It is a fair assumption
To believe that truth is habitually withheld,
In the daily routine of "inconsequential,
Miniscule" white lies.
As in larger defeats
Where the sting of humility or embarrassment linger,
In plans gone awry.
To understand this is not to condone this,
But never to engage in it.
To do so any different
Would only prove otherwise.

Berlin, Berlin,
contradiction city.
Grey concrete hulks stacked around
old buildings rising pretty.
A never ending construction zone
that tries to top the past
while dancing ’round her history
whose pallor shadows cast.

A marble altar
in a gilded Baroque church —
Poor babe in manger

for every thing, there is a time
for every song, there is a fitting moment
for every angel, a wee devil lurks
for every spring, its autumn

for every taste, there is a canvas blank
for every brush, there is a stroke unfinished
for every soul, there is a soul to spark
for every universe, a mind undiminished

for every beating heart, there is a dream to dream
for every happy day, there is a week of sorrow
for every wicked game, there is a sumptuous scene
for every yester-day, a million of to-morrows

for every tear you cry, there is a genuine smile
for every doubt you shed, there is a triumph to follow
for every faux pas, there's a saving grace
for every second gone, a million of to-morrows

Towering concrete
flora and fauna struggle
to find their footing.