I spoke of Power to Truth,
and Truth giggled at my innocence.
Truth let loose a belly laugh, and asked,
“What does Power know of me?”
“I am the light, and I am extremely heavy.
I am an obligation of the few, a provision for the many.”
“And so, I ask you again,” said Truth, wiping away tears of laughter,
“what does Power know of me, here, now, or in the ever-after?”
I looked at the ground
and was ashamed of my naiveté.
The gravity of Truth’s stance,
Wept concrete o’er my feet.
Now moulded to the earth where I stood,
legs leaden and arms of wood,
back creaking with the weight at my shoulder,
Truth’s words fell; a brutal, tumbling boulder.
I yelled and I wept
“it cannot be so,”
“the few and the many,
Must not exist, in such irreconcilability.”
Truth stopped the laughter long enough,
to touch my face with a hand scarred and rough.
“My darling Hope, your sweetness exudes
a whispering blossom, it is hard to elude.”
“I wish you well, in your innocent quest
But know that many before have fallen at this test.”
“I should laugh at your deluded designs
but without them, rampant advancement would thrive and grow.”
“I am Truth, so I really must say,
that your pursuit is the most worthy, of any today.
“You are quite often all that they have,
their only brightness, in grey days, dark and drab.”
“So if you can introduce us, Hope,
Truth to Power shall speak.”
So I walked away, with a new mission.
I always have them you see, these grand undertakings.
Some call me an optimist,
I’ve even been called an idealist.
But for me I can’t but help to strive,
for an existence, where all can thrive.
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