Myths Of Zealots

In the myth of science
there are all the beautiful stories
you could ever wish to contrive.

In the religion of science
there are the stiffly clasped
doctrines of zealots.

In the science of science
there are symbols, and arguments
over the meanings of things.

But we are still the people
as we were the people before,
hearing fragments and rumours,

pasting them in to the pastiche
of our fears, our dreams
and the myths we’ve believed.

Yet another relentless turn of the age
sees misunderstandings told,
preached as the truth,

our power deflected from self
and put to Gods of numbers
and statistics, pushed away

from the heart’s human yolk
that weeps to discern truth
from confusion’s intellectual maelstrom.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016

Truth

The scientist say they know it.
The religious say they own it.
Societies loosely adhere to common
Agreements of mostly hearsay,
And we all bumble along
As if we lived in the same world!

But the truth,
(If I dare be so bold,
Or at least, my personal
Understanding of it), is that
There are worlds in multitude,
Understandings in multitude,
Perception in multitude,

And to claim one truth
Above and beyond,
Is of the finest, beautiful egotism,
For no man knows the whole sum
And lives as he drifts with glimpses of
Moments, brief meetings and
Encounters, dances with partners
Ever changing:
All deeply relevant,
Deeply relevant to him.

Truth is heart close.
Mind close.
Soul close.

And individual in its unraveling.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015

It Is Given

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There but a breath from here
Flows the ever stream
Of loveliness.

There in the body
Flows its warm mist,
Delightful as spring energy.

It says without words.
It says
If listened to or ignored.

It says nevertheless
And cares not for being heard
Or even acknowledged.

It is gift
For it is given without clause,
No distinction

Is Required, demanded or extorted.
It is a gift for all,
Without division

Or judgement imposed.
All may quench their thirst:
Worthy or unworthy

Good or bad as they come.
It just comes
For it is given to all.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015