The Geometry of Truth…
The fact is not a single, solid stone,
A simple thing to clutch and call one’s own.
It is a cut-glass prism, multi-faced,
Where every angle, light and dark, is placed.
One face is Law, a cold and measured line,
A code of charges, writ by dark design.
It speaks of courts and borders, sovereign might,
And seeks to separate the wrong from right.
Another face is History, old and deep,
Where ancient, festering wounds refuse to sleep.
It holds the memory of a silent cry,
The weight of promises that passed us by.
And here, the face of Politics, a game
Where power whispers every burning name.
A calculated move, a piece to play,
To shape the narrative of night and day.
But turn it now, see Passion’s burning hue,
The human heart, believing what is true.
The fervent hope, the terror, and the dread,
The unshed tears for silent, distant dead.
Do not dismiss the fear, the hurt, the cost,
The lines of loyalty so fiercely crossed.
The pain is real, a scar upon the land,
A trembling, outstretched, and forgotten hand.
To see one face and think you see the whole
Is to be blind to what makes nations whole.
It is to choose a single, stark design,
And pour new wine in old and bitter vine.
So let us hold this prism to the light,
And dare to face its fractured, brilliant sight.
To see the Law, the History, and the Pain,
And in that triple vision, break the chain.
For in the center, where the facets meet,
Lies not an answer, simple, pure, or sweet
But just the courage, vulnerable and raw,
To see another’s truth, and stand in awe.
©TheVillageBoy.
(The figure man who loves Alphabets)
