Today I bear my mind to tell this truth.
This truth, I’ve held so dear in my heart, I’ve kept so near to my chest, yet I feared so much in thought, for I knew not how, perhaps what to say it, but because I do not know if it will kill or if it will make ill or perhaps if it will heal.
Truth they say, nurture the conscience, vindicate the righteous, bears hope for the penitent and condemn the wicked; but I fear I know not, what this truth shall bring, valiance, vagaries or vanquish.
Truth brings life. It is like pills to the ailing man, some claimed, but then while it bitterest taste could save the heart, its sweetest dose could poison the soul (or mean a soulful end).
And truth brings freedom, but not without the cruelty of shattered hopes, the headaches of possible enslavement, and the perpetual hurts lined with the scars of a broken heart.
Yet truth is seemingly desired, but like the archer shot, it pierce through the heart of the scoundrel and bears more hate; and innocence is no longer guiltless.
But truth has tumult. Crushed beneath the pain of a wounded soul, truth could lay so quietly bare, thrusting with the rivalry fist of an eternally lasting strife or brooding with the regrets of a timely hateful past, or perhaps humbled with the yoke of penitence.
So then, how do I tell this truth, that it bears no hate, and hurts but healings?
Or what truth do I tell that bears no tumult, tears and torment but comfort?
Is there any?
Or should I shroud the truth and make it a puzzle for the discreet? Or tell it as riddle for the shrewd? Or leave it a parable for those who discerns?
Or should I hide it in a lie and bear no offense? Or should I keep it in the subtle mask of time? Or should I stay it in the hornet of honesty?
What truth do I tell that will pry no fear in me and bear no offense to thee?
Perhaps half truth!
Or better still ‘a relative truth!’
Or a useful lie!
Or this truth… honest but hurtful!
What do I tell?
The half truth is the lesser path to safety; it seldom save us from the consequence of reality, but it catch up with us, and does not shield us from woeful shame. Such dishonor!
Relative truth is reality lost in tale for which a fairy is invented but then reality is assumed in a lie; much ado about diplomacy!
A useful lie shelters us from offense, but it rarely keeps us away from the reproach which soon seared us and sealed our conscience in damnation. What torment!
But then there is this honest but hurtful…yet it is the truth that may never soothe our cares but spare us from the fury of fate. A rare salvation!
Isn’t a relative truth better than a useful lie? Or a half truth best than a hurtful truth?
I have not all knowledge to myself; neither claim I any perfection for myself. But I do here claim to be a passionate huntsman of truth, though it appears I bear no semblance, of Truth, which is but another name for God; hence I dare not pinch an ounce of lie in this earthly temple, that He dwells.
Hence, I fear that the half truth, the relative truth and the useful lie are equal ends that harm the truth. If bear them, then I would trade a seemly vice which I know will no longer bear a vestige of the truth in my thought; and my vesture twined in falsehood.
For I here opined truth bears no lie, I mean there is not an ounce of lie in truth, neither is it illusive. For me, truth is life, light and love; hence, a harmful truth is better than a useful life; and the safest shore than the half and relative truth.
For truth is honest and honorable in itself.
And this is the truth.
Bear kindly a little; I trade not the truth for a life of convenience; neither is it to atone for some indulgence; nor is it a last resort for my eternal appeal.
I spare not this truth, to comp-end for many books, neither is it to command the grimy looks, nor is it to call to rooks.
I doubtfully trust that this truth would assuage fears; neither do I know it would offer a second chance for cares; nor do I believe it would soothe the tears.
I bear not this truth; not for convenience; no, not for a relationship of convenience, neither is it to make for a companion of last resort, nor to subtly makes a gain of innocence.
To whom then shall I tell this truth?
I bear this truth to a dear friend, whose hand tends me with care; whose love fends me with warmth; whose life beamed with so much brightness that lightened my dark dingy dreary path; for whom my cupid heart is blinded for aye; with whom rest the earnest desire of my eternal delight …but my frailty.
Yes, to that friend, with whom I have shared the thoughts of a better life, of better days, with such hope of a future that is ever full of joys, ever increasing in affection, never failing in love and endlessly triumphant in all endeavors.
Or shyly should I say to those friends, wonderful friend, but who have not done enough to get what they deserve, perhaps who have approved of themselves ‘not enough’ to be what they ought to be.
So, I bear this simple truth in faith to my truest fend, whose meddling adorn my heart; it is not for contempt, nor resenting vindictiveness and justifications. Neither is it to recall our duel, nor bear more hurt and offense. NO! It is not to keep the distant, but that the truth I have found, in this valley of reflection, may be made known. Known beyond the words I already bore to you.
Yes, the words, those words that are epitaph in the temples of our humbled hearts, kept in the memories of our thoughts, and etched in the sand of time.
Of time - a minuet of our eternity;
...by AIKHAITUAMEN FREDERICK
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