Truth?
Rare is truth to discover,
Is found on a path...
Crowded with smiling,
Hand holding truth seekers.
Some to skip along.
While others are heard humming,
'What A Wonderful World'.
No!
Often one should have,
At least an ax.
To chop through the brush.
Clearing that path.
A Bible.
And a box of matches.
To burn a bunch of sage.
Then pray.
Hoping wolves are unfamiliar,
With the smell of it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem