Mark Twain
The Truth Is…
The truth is...
Life does not kill you-- it makes you stronger.
I would rather be the crane waiting patiently,
or the sturdy branch the tall bird is meditating on, or
even the silver fish nourishing the white bird’s glory.
The truth is...
Love is not a choice-- it weaves itself into your responsibility.
I would rather be the full moon loving the morning,
the two slowly trading the seductive light shimmering on the lake,
or the twosome moving rhythmically trading day for night.
The truth is...
Time lives on, embracing the halo of the natural world.
The song of her breath trembles at your presence,
the turn of time in spokes of wooden rings, buds slowly opening,
a chance to climb even higher to broaden a borrowed view.
The truth is...
Life birthed something monumental for you.
I am carved in your soul, a mosaic helix of raindrops,
our initials whittled into the flesh of my tree trunk,
moving slowly upward, transformed over weathered time.
The truth is...
I don’t want to know the truth anymore.
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