The Search For Truth
Once was all it took, a fancy to never end.
The sun rose this day to display
Truth standing in the distance;
her blood-orange lips, glowing from
sweet pearls of sweat.
To him, she was perfect.
Distant, he imagined the skin of milk, hair
of cacao, eyes of crystal, the heart of a rose.
It seemed everything was falling into place;
a beautiful place.
Truth danced beneath the beaming sun,
pure splendor radiating from her laughter
as he became overwhelmingly and incandescently happy.
There were no shadows this day.
No bitterness.
Nothing that could hinder his joy
from the truest moment he thought he knew.
To him, Truth was the purest form of love
there ever was.
Ahh.
The nausea. The sickening cramps.
Head throbbing with every shift in thought.
It was all too much; the hornets, buzzing too loud
and the sparrow’s song pierced ears.
He fell to his knees and hands, a servant to a mammoth chaos ahead.
Where was Truth, where was she?
Thirsty for passion, he hunted and paced and searched for Truth.
Running in circles, getting nowhere, feet slipping from under.
Hot winds lashing at his cheeks, blood sprinting to the ankles.
Truth, Truth, Truth, where are you, Truth, Truth.
He called for her.
Still longing for Truth, she was gone.
Deceit:
She stood without life.
A wretched black hole in a dull space of absence.
She had no complexity, featureless.
Without the light of a dulcimer’s song.
Cold. Still. Nothing.
Almost as winter.
Still, he did not move. Frozen in a moment of disbelief.
There was not a word.
No breath. No soul.
Nothing left in him as he stared up at her, empty.
Weathering, he lay.
In silent defeat, he collected himself.
Blinding his eyes eternally, he pictured the purest form of love
there ever was.
