Ode to Truth


Bacon (wink wink!) urged us to consider what’s in a name, for a rose by any other name smells just as sweet. In the moments of devotion all religions are the same. Let every aspect of your life be an act of devotion. Look carefully into the eyes of a child, therein a splendor is revealed that has existed long before the spark that set the sun ablaze. Place no value in the fleeting. Worship neither wealth nor fame. The fleeting is fleeting. I am but a story I tell myself. My knowledge is imperfect and I am imperfect. The resplendence of truth is all that exists.

Ode to Truth

There is You, only You

O Framer of Blake’s fearful symmetry

Let me weave your tapestry

For I stand humbled and naked yet mightily infused with your effulgence

I am that i am

For i am but a breath in the sphere of an infinite essence that existed when the world was naught

The Christian sees it in his cross, the Muslim in his Ka’aba, the Jew his Wall, and the physicist in his equations

They are all short-sighted for I see only You

O Peerless One

Your resplendence lies in the rock, your resplendence lies in the rose and in the dove

It is all through Your providence

In every blade of grass a magnificence exists that no cage of words can capture

Utter astonishment for the discerning eye

I surrender to Thy will

For essence eludes elucidation

Humility is my prize

i am triumphant.

One love,


image credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Cat%27s_Eye_Halo.jpg


About H3nry J3kyll
Vincit omnia veritas (using an obscure Latin heraldry motto makes one seem kinda learned and distinguished).

2 Responses to Ode to Truth

  1. Oh my, H3nry,

    I am I.

    I read and hear and immediately Blake’s poem comes to the fore and requests presence.

    Restraint fails, hence:

    The Tiger

    Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
    In the forest of the night
    What immortal hand or eye
    Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

    In what distant deeps or skies
    Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
    On what wings dare he aspire?
    What the hand dare seize the fire?

    And What shoulder, and what art,
    Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
    And when thy heart began to beat,
    What dread hand? and what dread feet?

    What the hammer? what the chain?
    In what furnace was thy brain?
    What the anvil? what dread grasp
    Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

    When the stars threw down their spears,
    And watered heaven with their tears,
    Did he smile his work to see?
    Did he who made the lamb make thee?

    Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
    In the forests of the night,
    What immortal hand or eye
    Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

    William Blake

    Contented sigh.

    Poem’s online text from Poemhunter.com http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tiger/

    • H3nry J3kyll says:

      Lol, A fave that has never left my mind since it crossed my path all those years ago. I am thrilled that The Tyger came to mind from the universe of verse. I guess nothing you learn ever really leaves you. Instead you incorporate it into what you create.
      Thank you for reading.:)

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