Today I can’t help but weep for Truth;
It has lost its appeal – the royal robes and the sparkling crown.
Her golden throne has been wrested away with impunity;
In her own imperial court she stands accused
Of being naked, bitter, unrealistic, and worthless.
She is her own defence in courts of silent judges and deaf juries.
Her crown now sits on a clown,
Propped up on a hollow elaborately designed brass throne.
Her robes now serve as blindfolds,
That the ‘pious’ be spared the affront of looking upon her nakedness.
Her throne hewn and given out to securely steer the tongues of her accusers
Away from integrity, and anything remotely resembling virtue.
It is staggering to realise the number of hearts
That have chosen to delight at Truth’s plight.