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Literature Text
Long ago I wrote my wisest words of that young age
I had written many lines, but most I would reject
Suddenly my pencil then entrusted to the page
that the Truth is always more important than its side effects.
And I never knew
If I had written truth
I've been thinking ever since to find the greatest truth
to make sense of the paradox confusing all our lives
A philosopher I soon became
the subject has since stayed the same
Should we think, or should we feel; will the wits or heart survive
And I never knew
How to find the truth
Now, did i finally find the right way
to live, and help you from sorrow?
I'd tell you to know about yesterday,
feel about today, and think about tomorrow.
Yet, when thinking of you
I feel for you too;
just a side effect of the truth?
I had written many lines, but most I would reject
Suddenly my pencil then entrusted to the page
that the Truth is always more important than its side effects.
And I never knew
If I had written truth
I've been thinking ever since to find the greatest truth
to make sense of the paradox confusing all our lives
A philosopher I soon became
the subject has since stayed the same
Should we think, or should we feel; will the wits or heart survive
And I never knew
How to find the truth
Now, did i finally find the right way
to live, and help you from sorrow?
I'd tell you to know about yesterday,
feel about today, and think about tomorrow.
Yet, when thinking of you
I feel for you too;
just a side effect of the truth?
Literature
distinction
This is what I cannot understand.
There is an understanding that nothing is ever black and white. Good can be achieved through bad means, what's wrong can sometimes be right, and if you turn right for long enough, you eventually go left. Boys can be girls who fall in love with girls who sometimes think they are boys and the lines between everything end up irreversibly blurred.
Or so I've always thought.
But this is a line that cannot be blurred. This is the only remaining clear-cut line that separates black from white as perfectly as a color wheel. And that is the fact that everything is until it isn't. We are until we aren't. We breathe u
Literature
on not knowing.
this road was ten miles long.
i traveled barefoot.
Literature
Who knew
The man you visited in a dream,
The one you re-traced a half-remembered
Path for, in the off-chance of
Surprising one another again -
Polychromatic flannel and subtle sighing
Through the teeth, gently
Warm eyes softly exotic
Slavic vodka on a late summer night -
Swept by today, wearing blinders of
Deep conversation, still
Smiling with an accent
His arm around a waist
I want to sit in my room, arms wrapped around
Knees against chest in the solace of the sun,
I want to watch the endless journeys of
Sidewalk strangers from the fire escape
But it's ten to four and
There's no time to cry anymore;
Only time to join the chattering
Choir
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Years ago, when i had really only started songwriting, I wrote a song I called Truth. It included the line "the truth is always more important than its side effects", I still really like that line, it must be by far my favourite line from all the songs i wrote in those days 
I'll leave the interpretation of that line up to you... let me just say that now, a couple of years later, I still don't know if i agree with that line.
I put this song in spiritual poetry, but i could have easily put it in (auto)biographies as well. Though seen from a spiritual point of view, it's the story of my life... well, of a big part of it, anyway.
Inspired by `3wyl, one of our many inspirational conversations reminded me of the mentioned line, and of the question.... is the line true?
Critiques encouraged
This won 1st place in ~xana-1's Soul of a Poet contest
It's a true honour 
Never received the prizes though 
I do Points commissions to help a friend in financial need! More info here. 
I can do new poems or songs, or send you a personalised copy of this song.
Thanks to #Come-One-Come-All, #SOULSSHINE-ONLINE & #DD-Catalogue for submitting it to their gallery, and to `Gwendolyn12, $Moonbeam13 and everyone else who may have suggested it for the DD.
I'll leave the interpretation of that line up to you... let me just say that now, a couple of years later, I still don't know if i agree with that line.
I put this song in spiritual poetry, but i could have easily put it in (auto)biographies as well. Though seen from a spiritual point of view, it's the story of my life... well, of a big part of it, anyway.
Inspired by `3wyl, one of our many inspirational conversations reminded me of the mentioned line, and of the question.... is the line true?
Critiques encouraged
This won 1st place in ~xana-1's Soul of a Poet contest
It's a true honour Never received the prizes though I do Points commissions to help a friend in financial need! More info here. I can do new poems or songs, or send you a personalised copy of this song. Thanks to #Come-One-Come-All, #SOULSSHINE-ONLINE & #DD-Catalogue for submitting it to their gallery, and to `Gwendolyn12, $Moonbeam13 and everyone else who may have suggested it for the DD.
Namenotrequired
Submitted under Creative Commons licence
Dedications
=Maladikta, ~ShadowDragon973 and `Gwendolyn12 quoted this song in their signatures!It's a huge honour.
~SoulDragonit quoted it on her Hyves page!
~20Tourniquet02 recorded a video of herself reciting this(I'm not allowed to link to it though
)
Comments281
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactI have tried to find the words to write a critique, but after battling with my own inward questions I decided there wasn't an acceptable way of writting a fair critiqué. But even that being said, Im still compelled to say something beyond I truly love your poem. So I've written this critique in a way that will hopefully explain how wonderful your poem is and how inspiring it is:
TRUTH
Long ago I wrote my wisest words. Young of age I was
After writing many words, most of them I rejected
Because my pencil had become entrusted to the page
The TRUTH became clearer and more important than its potential side effects
But would I have ever known it
How would I have ever known, it was truth I was writing?
So I've been thinking…
I've been seeking the greatest truth
I've ben trying to make sense of a paradox that confuses us all
I searched everywhere, until a philosopher I became
But despite all I did, the subject threatened to remain the same
Should we think, or should we feel?
Should we have wit, or should we have heart to survive?
Will I never ever know how to find the truth?
Faith requires me to keep going.
How did I finally find my way?
How did I learn to live and to grow from sorrow?
Am I to keep it a secret?
I'd tell you what I know about yesterday, how I feel about today, and what I think about tomorrow,
But. . .
When I think of you… I wonder:
Should I feel for you the same way I feel for me, or
Should I feel for you the same way you feel for me…
Or do I risk turning my truth into a side effect of your reality by being eternally lost in a quest to unravel the truth about you?
Or is the truth that I love you? . . .
#Sincerely Inspired! Hope you like… I don't know if I should apologise for the love interest at the end, but I was really tempted and hope you like. #Holding thumbs. Just to remove the awkwardness of it all, - (incase anybody is wondering "why") - but The beauty of art is in that: ART is it's own language, it has it's own soul and lives it's own life, in it's own interpretation and achievement. That being said, it's existence has little to say about it's author except that he created it and if you recognise and respect his talent, he will recognise and respect you too. Well, he might, because beyond that, your opinion doesn't really matter