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Posts Tagged ‘godless’

Buy The Truth And Sell It Not

I’ve often asked, “Is there a line
That lies twixt truth and error?”
My answer – is it only mine? –
It’s strife, and often, terror.

It cannot be a line that’s mixed
With truth and error halving;
Right’s right, and wrong is wrong – both fixed.
There is no sheep that’s calving.

The line is like a battle drawn –
There is no co-existence.
Colliding, cold and hot air spawn
A front at both’s insistence.

There is no mix with water, oil.
They’re kept from e’er eliding
As if the hand of practiced mohel
Was there, with knife, dividing.

As truth, two faiths can never stand –
Between them: fire and battle.
With God or godless – line in sand,
And down it sabers rattle.

In truth, it’s truth when once defined
Which makes all else an error.
Truth’s one, but error’s not confined –
Truth always is the rarer.

That truth means truth is valued more
It stands alone, uniquely.
And error (Witch) is jealous, sore,
Of truth (Snow White) completely.

And error, erring, true to kind,
Is cause of strife and terror.
It seeks to take the place assigned
To truth – the valued, fairer.

So buy the truth, and sell it not;
No error is its double.
One sends the sailor through the slot,
The other is his trouble.

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Proverbs 23:23 Buy truth, and do not sell it;
Get wisdom and instruction and understanding.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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It seems our godless land is cursed
By drought; my yard cries out in thirst.
The lawn is like a mottled skin
Shed by a reptile, dry and thin.

The water, scarce, is rationed here,
And only gold is held as dear.
But even that, when in the heat,
Will take, to water, second seat.

The rules are I must hold a hose
And only in the times they chose.
I thus protect my precious slot –
Except, by chance, I once forgot

Until the sun had slipped away
And all the stars were out to play.
I could not let my hours pass;
At night, I watered woeful grass.

I watered till the water ran,
Made little rivers like the Dan
Among the shoots, the green not seen
Except for patches in between.

The moon was out; it beamed upon
My watered work and sparkles shown
Like diamonds strewn across my land –
The beauty of that night was grand.

And while I marveled at the sight
Of aesthetic jewels at night,
For life, not “like”, the blades gave thanks
And stored them in their grassy banks.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.

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