The Truth

The truth sometimes
simply sits
before our faces,
but we don’t see that it is there.
Sometimes it is covered, disguised,
and we don’t take
time or effort
to uncover it; to look,
and to see.
The truth sometime seems too simple,
and sometimes too far fetched,
And outlandish, to believe.
The truth sometimes masquerades
or is represented as a lie,
but more frequently,
a lie masquerades as truth.
The truth can only be discerned through observation, and meditation,
And not completely by intellect.

Intellect is too fragile,
too subject to influence,
and filter.
The truth is perceived
often by a few and not by many,
Although many will.
Only true teachers,
and prophets speak the truth, because it is their purpose. Lawyers, doctors, politicians, scientists, filter the truth through their profession, and their rules, At best a profession can only relate the truth in broken pieces.
The truth is a whole.
The truth is a palindrome,
and a special anagram.
It says and means the same thing, whether it is read forward or backwards, or whether rearranged,
regardless of the frame of reference.
The truth is best related by a parable,
as a reflection is cast in a mirror, from the most minute detail,
to the most encompassing,
and largest form.
The truth is a mirror.
The truth can be inconvenient,
But ultimately it is convenient.
The truth can be tucked away and hidden,
but the truth,
will always remain the truth,
Whether perceived or not.

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Papa Hem

Hemingway
walking down a snow filled street,
with his white beard,
And a Santa hat,
in a bold red plaid shirt, swinging a shopping bag.
He knows the meaning
Of Christmas spirit,
In all its various forms,

And Papa Hem is good with that.

Path

To be carried down the road
With that object
That will be your end,
and measure.

To meet death
Without a reservation,
But one single complaint,
Accepted but not fully
Understood.

These are the signs
And paths
Of forgiveness
Difficult,
And self evident.