Truth Sayer

truth sayer
Category: Writing and Poetry

He never purged my tongue with fire,
No angel gave its breath,
And David never lent his lyre;
Nothing of the Heavens sired
Spoke. Oh, all of Hell, you quiet death
Envoke me not--as to tell a liar
Or some exalted fools shortness of his breath.

God of sight, Infinite Manifest, fire
Boils on my tongue to saith
The Son or grant to me that silent death.

--

I don't want to speak anything but perfection, The earth is round, sky's blue, God's great Gospel of Jesus Christ, mathematic equations of creativity and truth. God is perfect, perfect in sight and thus in knowing multifacetedly every true thing about truth. As Isaiah, I am a man of unclean lips, unclean in morality, unholy in nearly all the things i speak as truth--they all seem to fall short of the perfect thing to say. Perfection is possible, is doable; I am indwelt by the HOly Spirit of God, God. How now shall i live? --I want to speak truth. Hell is separation from God. Hell is silence to God and from Him. I want this not. I also do not want to speak someone elses words or my own as "some exalted fools shortness of his breath." I want truth or silence of Hell, so thus, "God purge my tongue."