{Truth's Hill}
~original poetry~I.
When, at last, down we sit
To approach the daunt of tasks
Hopeless we, or valiant,
Uncorked our full creation's casks?
Into the gaunt of burdenous work,
Or haunting child's play,
Within the lack of joy do lurk,
Or 'xude most brilliant ray?
The truth between, elusive mean
Whose calls echo afar,
In life do we, most fitfully,
A-strain our ears unto dark star.
II.
The weave of words is smooth and sweet
For those who their etudes do meet
With studious mind in reverent silence
On confusion crying "Fie!" from hence
"It makes no sense!" forswore, instead:
"All things have truth" becomes affirmed.
The former fool that closed their head,
Sees fractals of some wholeness germed
Within the consciousness, infected,
By revolution, new reflected.
Old in essence, novel still:
By steep degrees we climb Truth's hill.
@d-pend