Give it aid and comfort. It is not the enemy
Though it tears down walls - revealing who knows what?
A percussion of skeletons to rattle and remind us of our faults.
The truth points to itself with a ghostly hand
Howling in the sounds of souls who might have seen better days
But never lived them.
Truth stands sentinel beside the voice of reason
Steadfast and sure despite the best efforts of the chattering classes
Who veil reality with sophistry and emotive turns of phrase.
Riled up, unthinking people react to what they feel - turn truth aside and ride
A rollercoaster running on imaginary threats.
Excitement hides the knowledge they pretend to seek
Beneath feigned belief.
Beauty is not truth. Manufactured or presented as a matter of opinion
Beauty is only ever in the eye of the beholder.
Truth is just there. At times, it frays the fabric of the ties that bind
When beauty matters more than truth. They cannot coexist in peace
One tears at the other, marring and distorting the perceptions of those
Whose views are skewed to favour peace at any price. But truth is always
Worth the sacrifice.
What next, if truth is all we have, and nothing more?
But truth is all there is. For God is truth - the Devil is in the details
Painting in colours we wish to perceive the beauties we want to believe.
War is Hell, but there is a way out: to suffer here and now the slings and arrows
Of the outraged in the hope of a better tomorrow.
The truth hurts. It always will, for truth is unyielding, unmoved and unmoving
Because it is.
- Copied to Writers Rendezvous.