The truth . . .
as if it were placed so lightly in my hands.
The truth be, is what (?),
and what do I have?
Myself, as free and clear spirit,
internal agreement
as to the how’s of living,
inwardly stilled in each moment forward,
able to sense the all
of exactly what I desire,
pleased to have expectation's reward,
an indomitable sense of self-permission,
the presumption of time
warping into oneness,
or an intimacy beyond closeness to share?
Is truth a charm, charmed, or charming?
Is truth just a commodity?
Is truth a contract?
Is there such a thing in truth
as a guarantee?
Can truth be told as a refinement?
What is it that I have
when I supposedly possess the truth?
If so, is truth then an entitlement,
a freedom from harassment,
an innocence from ulterior motives
or perpetual relief from self-criticism?
Does truth have a shelf life?
What veiled existence lives in truth?
Is any other view
only a lesser sense of truth?
Is the saying of a truth
make the sayer truthful?
Is truth much like an ocean
in that each drop of water is the truth,
but is the ocean's truth
in each drop of this water?
Is a truth in our consciousness only used
really for an esteemed point of view?
Truth has such a creative life
until it resides in conclusion.
We seem so poorly equipped
to live in truth as summary
or to be holding truth as captured.
For what could one say in truth
that is not already self-evident
by presence yet dismissible in words
as language only serving topic?
Oh, to be free from memory's take of truth,
to have an innocence's embrace of truth,
without the wherewithal of afterthought.
What song has left as my voice so recently
but is not now remembered for its truth?
Have I awoke only for choruses
and slept through the truthfulness
of every new verse?
If truth were the constant, are we,
as consciousness maybe just a thread,
a needle, a relative matter,
an agreement to not lie,
towards acquiescing to the truth?
And if truth became one of our senses,
would we have a better grasp,
a purer state,not separate from,
the truth in all ways?
For lastly, are we really seeking to live
in the confines or the expanses
of the ever light,
and would it be known as the truth?
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