The deaf that day will hear the words of a book.
And after shadow and darkness the eyes of the blind will see.
The book is open, we only have to look.
From our doubts we need only flee.

I was reading St Benedict’s rule.
Speak the truth with heart and tongue.
Do I view speaking the entire truth as argument’s only tool.
Or for that am I too high strung.

In that poem yesterday.
I said I dreamt of the rain.
But I only said that to rhyme with plain on that sad day.
I should have said in a good rhyme too that the traffic forced me into a choked lane.

So I am like everyone else , subject to passing emotion.
Truth is, I fear, a multifaceted notion.