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What is a truth?

Truth is, a scale. A weight.
A line between distance.
A time within patience.
Hope within strength.
The grey in your hair.
The blew in the wind.
The cold in a heart.
The posture of deception.
The curve of a smile.
The flow in the air.
The faith of a spirit.
The love of a ***.
The shower in the rain.
The burn in the sun.
The focus in the study.

These are truths.

© Wanderer
Caloris 5d
Learn more than you can teach yourself -- teach more than you know yourself!
Similar to:
"When one teaches,
Two learn." - Robert Heinlein
Volumes on silence…
You could fill a library;
Then what has been said?
I thought you knew I liked you.
I thought you knew I cared.
I thought you knew I had to talk
of all those silly things we shared.
I thought you knew how important you were . . .
how important you were to my heart.
I thought you knew of the things I did . . .
those things I did from the start.
I thought you knew you're the only one
who looks into my eyes.
I thought you knew you're the one
I turn to every time I cry.
I thought you knew, every time you made me mad,
you're always the one who turns around and made
me laugh.
I thought you knew, without a doubt,
our love would be true . . .
In some way, or another,
Somehow...
I thought you knew . . .
More depression as me and my boyfriend are in a "Minor Disagreement".
BlueInkDitty Dec 10
I know of love by the things I didn't do,
And I know your body by the cloth that's on you.
I know the truth and I know it my way,
So don't light my fire, it will lead you astray.

Dive in the water if it's not from my sea,
Dive in it deeper so you don't drown with me.
Dive in the water and swim in it alone,
For all the bubbles at my surface are gone.

And all the sirens sang "Amen".
And all the people sang again.

I know of love by the names on the stem,
And I know of freedom by the trees under them.
I know of truth and I believe she's strong,
So don't light my fire if you can't burn along.

Nobody stays unless they lose their mind,
After the heartquakes, what is it that I'll find ?
You can walk on my earth but walk on it alone,
For each step that you take will be crushing my bones.

It's not a fear if it can't do us harm,
We're not the victims as there's life in our arms,
It ain't a crime if there's no bleeding hand,
It's not a victory if we die at the end.

And all the lovers sang "Amen",
And all the people sang again.
knowledge is an ocean,
its vast and endless capacity
filled with many different things.

knowledge is a book,
it is filled with information,
begging to be read.

knowledge is a black hole,
its outer figure drags you in,
and holds you captive.

knowledge is a bookshelf,
you have many books of information,
and just one is not enough to satisfy.
Kat Dec 7
Each rose I met promised to explain me
the wonder, the joy
of transformation.
The perennial grief,
at the sight of the world becoming,
is the grief of wanting to understand but not being able to.
How much greed there was,
in my longing for a garden.
B Sonia K Dec 7
There is a difference between pretence and adaptation
Your mind constantly in motion
Emotions,
Rising up to the occasions
Changing,
Depending on different sitiations.
...
To the British I speak English
To the Polish, I speak Polish
To the rich, I am rich
And not just in manner of speech
It's not pretence
It just makes sense
Adapting to every situation
A constant change with diverse emotions
Not just an illusion
There are established illustrations
...
To everything there are two sides
Upsides and downsides
What I call adaptation
Some call pretence
When I give an illustration
Some come to my defence
My aspiration to be better than I am
My conviction to change who I am
Has turned into deception
Leaving behind frustration.
...
The constant changes has its effect
Some might call it a defect
Just like trying to learn 10 languages at the same time
In the end all you have is half-baked knowledge not worth a dime.
This is my current situation
To which I can't find a solution
Because I adapt?  
Or a pretend?
You decide if this is a upside,
Or a down side.
In the end, a position I must take,
I am Half-baked.
Morning
Moon
Grey wind
Howls

Sophistication of
Alaska snow even
Buries those holding
Bouquet of rose

The sudden ennui
Kills the burning fire
When partly sunny turns
Mostly cloudy
When the universal hue remains
Silent with a smile
Whose sly portrait
Flashes once in a while

Yet this book of a surrealist
I hold close to my chest
Secures me whose oblivious minds
Attempts to retreat to the west
and the feeble flame of
The spark of a pen
Ignites my depressing hay
Dana Dec 6
What would it be like
To go back in time
When smiles came easy
And life was kind
Would I trade mistakes
And the lessons learned
For a fresh clean slate
And stones unturned?
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