Weighs a tonne, if
it's a burden to tell it
or explain it clearly
snipping away frills and flattery
but becomes a monumental relief
like reaching for the moon
in a visceral cranial of meteorites
but touching sky-spangled stars
if it is what it is
then what is it
yet leaving minds convoluting
begging for clarity
or conviviality
yet cradling frivolous shrapnel
dark clouds grey with hearsays
Plato perorates it is beauty
and yet finds it amorphously
esoteric and inconclusive
how photo-philosophic can it be
to query Aristotle or Socrates
to pantomime its evidentiary lust
and did Pontius Pilate knew it
when Christ was mounted on a Cross
until my dreams expiate
TRUTH will be an epiphany of Life
its mystery mine to endure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
there's the truth and the truth according to some