If we couldn't communicate
would we struggle constantly with the truth?
I would ask the animals
at the zoo
good morning, how do you do?
Truth is what it is
the sky is blue the sun is hot
flowers blossom after a summer rain
there is no wondering if the truth
is not.
Lies come in all forms
those we whisper to the world
those we use to shield from disappointment
those that slice in pain
those whose birth becomes unfurled.
A story that is peppered
with lies bathed in fire
is remembered far into the future
it changes the moment
grows maliciously in the heart of the liar.
Complicated say we
the thinking of the single soul
measuring deliberately or on the fly
caught in honeypot
sneakily or very bold.
Denying a truth
painting it with words of opposition
pretending that you didn't hear it
swearing to the emptiness
doesn't
make it no longer the truth.
and yet
yet we continue to lie.
barb
Captivating observations here, Barbara. You gathered enough momentum to overwhelm your readers, but eased back, in order to provide a soft landing. Those of us who bought a wrist band, will jump back into the line; those who only sprung for a single take, will be left to wander, left to wonder. And so it goes...
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