A hitherto unrevealed thing,
relative to which,
your doings are judged,
the deviations of your deeds from the, yet nebulous, so called, truth are measured, quantified and then given the deserving response.
God who hosts the truth,
who anchored this thing onto the cosmos,
forgets to install within us,
the ability to measure it, to predict it or to be certain about it.
Yet we act like we had always known it.
Truth might be old but is never our friend.
It is a stranger who can knock our souls at any time,
stretch its arms and ask us to fill it full.
We might even embrace it,
but wont this uncertainity, conjured out of our fated inability, remain
that the stranger who claims to be the truth,
is not the truth after all.
Bijay Poudel's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Truth by Bijay Poudel )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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