✨ Truth Is More Sensitive Than Time ✨ Poem by James McLain

The clock ticks softly, but truth does not hide,
It whispers beyond the hands of time's blade.
Empathy rises, fragile and clear,
A dew in the dawn of a soul's quiet tear.

Loss lingers, a shadow, a weight in the air,
But truth stands firm, unmoved by despair.
Love, like a flame, burns warm in the night,
Yet truth shines steady, its cold silver light.

Trust can be broken, brittle as glass,
But truth holds fast when all others have passed.
Knowledge is gathered, scattered like leaves,
But truth is the tree that never deceives.

And as desire trembles, moist as the rain,
The body aches softly, half pleasure, half pain.
Still truth, like the sky, remains ever wide,
Unmoved by the tides of what stirs deep inside.

For truth is eternal, beyond what we know,
More precious than love, than loss, from above,
Fleeting moments of time or of touch—
Truth stands alone, and it asks for so much.