The Truth

    What is the truth?
The truth is that we cannot fly.

This is the first truth, a primary

establishment of some limitation,

and yet we choose to limit ourselves

still through other more deliberate 

truths. Consider the second truth, 

that I love you is a sentence. If we 

were to say instead that I love you

is a sentence is not a sentence, then

perhaps we might allow for ourselves

to live more honestly and with

greater purpose. The third truth,

that we should all be sad sometimes

is perhaps secretly liberating in 

itself, if we accept that sadness lurks

in the soil that once fed a magnificent

life force before it housed the dead. 

Experiencing sadness reminds us that we

know happiness, and are jolted by its absence.

While the first truth should always remain

sobering and true, in shunning the others we ask,

what might the birds think of us now?

Reviews

[MFrano1]

This poem is one of your best. Not because it's the best written, but instead because I feel as if you carefully deliberated every line until you had the words that would most provoke insightful thinking in others. This poem required a lot of consideration and careful planning to make come together. At least that's how I feel, maybe it was actually quick and easy for you. Anyways, well done yet again.