Skip to main content

NATURE OF TRUTH


Why do we convince ourselves that the lie, no matter how slight it might be, is somehow better than the truth? It is truly the thing that becomes the roadblock in our way to seeking and perhaps even finding the truth. Overtime the little fib, the tall tale, the lie, becomes heavier and heavier, so heavy in fact, that the lie becomes the truth in our collective and lying eyes.

Truly though, it is the ultimate truth that has never been known to us. Does this mean that belief is a lie?

When we convince ourselves of something that is not the whole truth and nothing but the truth we find ourselves in a constant erosion of truth. Thank God then that it is a circle we traipse around on or we'd be sunk by the unfolding nature of deceit. Instead we find ourselves waking to a new truth, a new (H)eartH, a true Heaven. The key is to never forget, not memorize our mistakes only to again fall victim to their repetitive nature.

© 2016 Mark Richard Prime

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman

Per Plex Ed

            PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should.      (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?)    Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it.     [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime