Trust is a shimmering veil of hope
entwined with desire and faith
that betrayal need not be in keeping
with imaginary and real onslaughts
against a feral and cunning nature which it is
to be human.
Forged deeply into the character
it exists in thin lines easily broken,
hard to weave into a fabric that sustains,
so much so that it is often ephemeral if not non-existent.
It comes, it goes, here for a long while,
or never having existed at all.
It is oft known to have been only when it is felt
that it is lost.
Trust is such a thing that entire lives are spent
learning if it is carved into one's narrative
alongside those things so deeply valued it is life itself.
Betrayal is a dark and stormy place in which
trust goes to die,
and with it a willingness to continue this mortality
fearful of falling into that unseen abyss
and that searing pain that comes of trust lost.
In its dying it withers all hope of return
breaking the seals that held together our better nature
and making us forever shy and forlorn,
wild beasts that see hurt and shame in all corners
and find no solace in words spoken,
actions taken,
promises given.
Trust knows the death of itself lies in betrayal
that this long and arduous notion
cannot but seem virtuous and fair,
but when feigned rings hollow and deceitful
a machination of Machiavellian proportions,
its own being lost for being used as a folly.
A drama unfolds seen by one,
yet judged by those blind to the path
and in this comes an unabiding sadness and turmoil,
so twisted on itself it goes free only by breaking,
shattering asunder,
leaving searing and ugly scars that never fully heal.
That thing left behind can never trust again.
Trust is a virtue.
Trust is a gift.
It is by its nature a thing given and not taken,
lost never to be found,
and at its center it is our very human nature.
Such a thing as this should be sacred
for it is indeed a rare and cherished emotion,
and it is what makes us
good or evil things.
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