I went questing for truth in the world like a knight, with set jaw and drawn sword. Ready to scale mountains and slay dragons in their dens. As if truth were a phlegmatic princess, captive, inert and awaiting deliverance. I found it not. I went haggling for truth in the marketplace like a shrill housewife, beady-eyed and tight of fist. Trading insults and scorn. As if truth were a loaf of bread or a ruby-red pomegranate to bargain for. I found it not. I went begging for truth like a vagabond, with bare feet, tangled hair and a piteous expression. As if truth were a susceptible kinsman with philanthropic tendencies. I found it not. So weary with questing, and barter and plea, emptied by failure I called off the search. Leaned my forehead against the window, and looked out on a moonless night, too tired for thought. I watched as the stars came out, like so many lights on so many distant porches. I stood as quiet witness. And I do not know why somehow this — was enough.
October 4, 2013
October 4th, 2013 at 4:26 pm
Pavi, thank you. Enough indeed.
October 4th, 2013 at 5:08 pm
October 4th, 2013 at 10:10 pm
It is exquisite prose-poetry, incisive, perceptive of the smallest to the grandest. I read a number of your posts and was moved by all of them.
I would like to my blog and website address, for photographs, poetry, metaphysical musings, etc.:
October 4th, 2013 at 11:25 pm
These poems are even so much more beautiful now that I have met you! For months they were faceless, now no more! 🙂
Sent from my iPhone
October 9th, 2013 at 2:55 am
the awe and wonder of the universe is yours, and they are not enough to express how deep you stir this soul… for the holy silent discourses of planets and stars and galaxies constantly water this garden of love! and I’m soaked with your verses!!! 🙂
January 12th, 2014 at 10:39 pm
You say: “I went begging for truth like a vagabond, with bare feet, tangled hair and a piteous expression. As if truth were a susceptible kinsman with philanthropic tendencies.”
I suspect you come close here. Not that the costume does the trick or that the act melts Truth’s defences. But it were meant, if the desperation was cranked to screaming point, yes, I believe, I am told, I dimly perceive Truth is indeed such a susceptible kinsman with no desire to hold back at all.