Truth

I, truth,
Often rejected, shunned from the Mind.
Wherever I advance, timid, wary of being understood,
My path is barred by a wall of Prejudice.
This first monster,
Thick and Dense,
It thinks of itself as all knowing and well-informed.
Over the years, he has assembled,
Preconceptions, Assumptions,
Together they destroy me for the sake of their own existence.

If at times Prejudice lets me live,
Its demon sister does not.
She is Suspicion,
Thinks ill of me,
Believes that my Messenger is motivated by ill-will,
That my purpose is to unsettle and dethrone.
Mistrustful,
She sees me lurk secretively
Whereas, I, approach in all openess,
Empty-handed.
And rare are the times when she lets me in.

Only to see...
A different monster,
Vanity.
This one, Hideous, Proud, Unforgiving,
Vanity will take offence at me for what it perceives as slight.
Its indignance is a mighty fortress,
The more I advance, the more vengeful he becomes.
And often, I awake his little brother,
Shame.
Shame does not like to awake.
He resents me.
Once he stirs, I tread with care.
For he knows only anger and rage, as protection.
These two, Vanity and Shame, are armed with defences I can rarely penetrate.

And if, perchance, I do,
Then an archer is not too far behind.
This archer does not know me.
If it knew me, it would understand.
It would understand,
That I am a free-spirit,
I belong to know one.
But the archer never really sees me,
Or looks at me.
The archer only has eyes for my Messenger.
The archer recognises my Messenger, knows where he is from and the journeys he has made,
Knows that the emblem on my Messenger's banner
Differs from that on the archer's breast.

And that if they are different,
Then they must be at war.
And so the archer aims,
He does not aim at me.
For he has never seen me.
He aims for my source.
The arrow flies
While I remain,
Free spirit,
I fall.