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John C. Bullion


The boy walks along the lake
With eyes forever crying.
Or could it be
No one could see
His only fear was dying?

And this was just a boy’s disguise
Masking his emotions.
Or could it be
No one could see
The faith in his devotions?

As he looked into the lake
Intrigued by his reflection,
He asked his god
If it was odd
That he not see perfection.

No sooner than the boy had spoke
He heard a mighty voice,
Which spoke of truth
Unto the youth 
Of righteousness by choice.

The boy stood dazed beside the lake 
In search of more direction.
And then he heard 
That singing bird
Which sang with such perfection.

Still he gazed into the lake 
Seeing only imperfections.
Or could it be
The boy could see
At last his true reflection?