There is rarely simplicity in truth.  At least, that is the way we tell ourselves.

Truth is simple, straightforward, and unflinching.  Like a runaway train.

Runaway trains seem set free.  But they’re out of control.

Power without regard for consequence.

Truth doesn’t help the captives escape.  It points out.  Sometimes accuses. 

Proving things are true is something that many argumentative people pursue.

As if clarity comes from the ability to point out truth wins an argument.

(no one wins an argument… and that’s the truth)

Like the winds that blow on the coast of Maine, the nor’easters,

Truth erodes what people want to stand upon, hide behind, believe.

Until nothing remains except the winds blowing, cold and hollow.

But there is a type of truth that contains something other than fact.

Facts with purpose, wisdom wrapped in something merciful.

Like a luscious wind on the open sea, powering the sails of a vessel.

Not quite out of control, power with purpose.

It is a reflection just a little off, and it doesn’t seem right.

A mirrored reality that explains what truth does not, cannot, will never.

Its statement diffuses the greatest entangled discourse and mutes opposition.

A touch of this truth sets someone free, and belies definition…

(except from one who created it)

There is not one iota of simplicity in this that we can comprehend,

Because it is illogical, sublime, transcendent, and surreal.

Not unlike the gracious gift of it to those who would never understand it.

Even if we had 10 lifetimes to observe and learn.

But we at least have two to try.  One more than we deserve.

And that is the reason why.  And that is the reason why.

 

 

5:41 pm

13 March 2011