The god of truth is dead so speak your own
11 January 2022
MICHAEL DOM
The truth does not belong to you, my dear,
It lives and breathes inside us all. And what
You say is yours to speak, for which you dare
Force us to share, when a fraction of it
Does not compute the sum of nor compare
To the fullness of life, where each remits
The pain of being. If truth exists, we bear
The weight, we each, so if each one is fit
Be wary of your words, your vice declares
Itself in the nature of being. Know that.
But say the wise, just speak your truth, no fear,
We shall force the mathematics to fit.
God is dead. Truth is whatever you care,
The truth we speak need not care about that.
In fact, this poem is a sonnet. Thank you for your participation, Lindsay and Johnny.
Posted by: Michael Dom | 13 January 2022 at 08:13 AM
The truth is this poem is good
Posted by: Johnny Blades | 12 January 2022 at 11:11 AM
I think that we are not creators of truth but rather we are participants in it.
One cannot bend the reality of a multiverse to one's own ends, in much the same way as a poem ends when it is done with the poet's words to express it's full meaning - participation is required for the expression of truth.
The ancient sages named this act 'god'. Who then owns it? Or how does it die?
Posted by: Michael Dom | 12 January 2022 at 11:01 AM
Relativity in earnest of truth puts reality in multiverses yet few as favourable as those by Michael
Posted by: Lindsay F Bond | 11 January 2022 at 05:34 PM