The Truth Seeker

Discrepancy speaks;
She listens intently.
He writes a purpose in her palm
With the indelible ink of curiosity.

She gets sexually excited;
That’s purely emphasis.
Truth appeals to be heard;
Yet He whispers faintly.

The questions poison her soul;
At times she pitches tent for a respite.
Discrepancy speaks;
Truth whispers softly.

She gets three pieces;
A pattern she never wished for.
Truth whispers,
It shreds her heart.

Jack Sparrow’s compass
Comes in handy;
It leads her to a truth
That resonates with her heart.

Discrepancy speaks;
Truth whispers softly,
“Who is at the centre of your
Religion, Truth Seeker?”

Reason hits her hard
On the head like a stiletto;
That posh one
With a metallic pointed heal.

It is the illusion of men
To seek for coherence in life
Brandishing logic that runs
From the canals their own hearts.

Truth whispers softly;
Discrepancy rings out like a bell.
She laughs as she stares back;
She cries as she looks ahead.

Truth is ugly;
Truth limps in our streets.
He is the least attractive
In the market place of ideas.

With a humble heart,
She gets up;
She stares at the three puzzle
Pieces and smiles.

Discrepancy whispers;
Truth speaks loudly this time,
“You’ll need two things;
A grave and a passion!”


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