A Word In Truth
One may find it best in promotion of healthy communion, to mind the sharpness of thy tongue, the flexing fluid stream which crosses the chamfered edge of gated tooth, as well the containment and geometry of mind.
One may think one possesses the fine focus, say, of the very tip of thy neighbor’s nose, curve of a cousin’s chin, or shape of thy servant’s skull.
But join the lengthy line to lead the blind back down the ascending trail, and find thy hoof purchased on thy self-possessed tail.
For though a swift word may exceed the mail, one may enter leaving, thirstily searching for the sacred shredder pail! And lo, hasty thought and rapid dowsing are the very traits I am, as yet, not espousing!
Truth as it’s told may be as tough to touch as molten gold, and so, a questioning mark could never come near it, for fear of melting from it’s slippery sliding inquisition; could not occupy the same position and would aid as fuel to energize it’s own evident ignition.
Thus it remains, when the heat of truth’s been told, who dares to crack a question that of itself does not chill the bones at the thought of the frostyfrozenfridgidfractured icy ca..ca..ca..ca..cowwoollld!!
And so, learning late of fiction’s false facts, the fortunes of folly are fashionably formed while events are in their blossom of youth. But the light of day shall fall for thee, as nothing questions truth!
For the petal of truth spins and floats a singular path that moves with great comfort, in any and all directions; while wild winds may aid the airy aim, as gravity makes corrections.
But land it will, with site-specific exactitude; passing all shifting form, as fashions exchange the evolution of mix and mood! To light upon the fact, like a stone stitched to a rock, and unmoved by sudden storm, or windy weather, as a granite block, untumbled by persuasion of any feeble feather!
Tuxes for tales, and winds for sails, into the spinning sphere of life; where truth eats a fitting feast, it bites the blade blunt of even the sharpest knife!
At the moment a single utterance of unquestionable ore spills, into the mold of the moment...
A MONUMENT IS CAST!
Hence not a rocket may retrieve it! Let us drop it, let us leave it, for it’s wedded as it’s welded to the past.
But pull the pale curtain of doubt, across our living stage, and that moment shall be revealed, as this font burns through the page!
For if doubt were to play the mirror of truth and tread within its place, a single atom’s sweet breath of truth would crack its silver face!
Hang a hesitation upon any fact of impressive stamp, and watch it fall like a flame within an empty lamp. For what prevails is beyond all augmented arguments of rhetoric or reason, and to taste its tongue is a savory dish in any salty season!
Alas, where is it written, but in the stardust of the heavens and sifting sands of time! Those who know of truth fear not to fall, and have no need to fly!
By ‘n’ by, ‘tis clear to the ear as ‘tis to the eye.
So it is with age as it is in youth,
No hard hammer has yet been cast...
that can crack the bell of truth!
© David L. Nelson 2006 FFA® & Ironworks Publishing