My soul is the third eye,
sees what my own eyes can’t.
It’s got a voice too
which tells me to be wary of glib words
and sophisticated smoothness.

Tells me not to accept what I read
or hear from melodious voices,
but look beyond
and find the true intent
that often is self-serving.

I find that grumpy words
and cross voices of the street have more wisdom
and more love to offer than shiny suits around a conference table.