His mind remembers truth, through clouded thought,
Of youth: that fell from him as day to dark.
The hours he spent for love when love was naught
Have left upon his soul a callused mark.
For birth was bare as he, and none would tell
What hand, or hell, or thought had brought him here.
Or from which cosmic moon or star he fell
Or why the darkness, as the light, brought fear.
His mind remembers truth through clouded thought
Of old age: poisoning a bitter heart
As he began to hate the truth he sought
He sentenced life to death and truth to part.
A man can never know the truth he seeks
Of life or love, unless Truth Himself speaks.
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