Josh Weiss Poems
|10.||What Babies Dream||6/14/2006|
|12.||Man's Best Friend||6/14/2006|
|13.||Cain And Abel||7/13/2006|
|18.||Saint Of Sin||7/31/2006|
Truth, what is truth? And is it aloof?
And if it is, where is the proof?
Is it something that comes in a revelation,
Does it follow some grand divine presentation?
And does truth stay the same through time,
Is there even truth within this rhyme?
Is it relative, only within the mind,
Or is it in objectivity that truth we find?
Is it the “veritas” that Pilate did mutter,
Or the unknowable forms Socrates did utter?
Truth, what is truth? Can it be found?
Will truth in our ears ever make a sound?
Darkening, the western sky grows weary of light,
And with the shift of a great shadow comes the night.
A chilling wind whispers across the great plain,
As rolling clouds thunder and begin to rain.
Falling cold rain – like tears of the blest –
For the heart of man within his breast.
Piteous tears falling far from on high,
From the kingdom of light within the sky,
That quivers in a torrential choke of sorrow,