For Love of Truth [sonnet]
That which is false is merely truth disguised
by fear — aversion to both light and love.
For truth is love’s own twin, the two despised
from deep within a frozen-fisted glove.
“There is no truth”, says one deluded soul.
“There’s only what each one thinks to be right”.
This vain philosophy they now extol
and in that shallow notion they delight.
But I have seen the outcome of such thought
in war and narcissism’s pallid curse.
In solipsism’s cul-de-sac they’re caught
and spurn the wisdom of the universe.
For guiledom’s cloak will always fray on earth
and truth will, in the end, prove what it’s worth.
© Alan Morrison, 2015
The Naked Troubadour 