Truth

Truth is not seen, but revealed, it is said,
To the Chosen One, to where he is led –
And that it’s passed to the world he shall see,
Ergo, does this onus fall upon me.

As I have been decreed, truth I shall say –
She’s fresh as dew to the first morning ray,
Perched on her lofty seat atop a leaf
In all things pristine, inspiring belief.

Never mind, her friend is a constant frown
Straddling her face like a luminous crown,
Yet when she takes it down once in a while,
Like truth, so is revealed her lustrous smile.

Under oath now, I shall dare vouch for this –
That smile is one the gods too best not miss:
Risen brow, lips arched as the crescent moon,
Eyes as stars, teeth as the sun at high noon.

Juniper-like she exudes the picture
Of the flawless candidness of Nature
Seeming delightful, from no matter where –
Her every state is a breath of fresh air.

All said and done, she is one of a kind,
Perfect of the body, pure of the mind,
Bathed doubtless by the fountain of youth –
And that, my dear, is nothing but the truth.

©Asiman Panda 2017