sonnet on words, truth & mystery

[rick green]

Reflect, you bookish ones, on what you seek
In words. In this word: truth. A simple sound,
Five letters put together, it’s not Greek
To you or me. But search the wide world ‘round—
In conversations, books, in lecture halls
And seminars—you’ll never yet digest
Those letters, nor surmount the outer walls
To gaze upon the garden they suggest.
Horatio’s philosophy is right.
What strange and true experiences lurk
There in the wings & wait just out of sight?
To rend the veil of words is all their work,
That in our brains, as in the greater world,
Mystery’s blank standard may be unfurled.

[RC]

Great! They're all three great, but for the sentiment expressed I like this one best of all. What a talent! If I had it I'd put out a shingle, people would pay good money. (No offense, I know it's Art, but you could give'em Art light, you'd still make a fortune.)

[rick green]

Thanks RC, I like this one best too.

[rick green]

Doh! I got it wrong! Horatio's philosophy is wrong! :oops: :lol: For some reason, I was remembering the scene in reverse. Back to the notepad with this one, I guess. What could be more embarrassing than that? Nothing to be scared of--a little public humiliation is a good thing! :wink:

[gil]

Easily fixed. Instead of Horatio's, say Prince Hamlet's. Edit it now and no-one will notice!

[rick green]

Thank's gil, but I've come up something a little different (though, perhaps not as elegant). Let's try it this way:

EDIT: I did go with something closer to gil's suggestion in the end.

Reflect, you bookish ones, on what you seek
In words. In this word: truth. A simple sound,
Five letters put together, it’s not Greek
To you or me. But search the wide world ‘round—
In conversations, books, in lecture halls
And seminars—you’ll never yet digest
Those letters, nor surmount the outer walls
To gaze upon the garden they suggest.
The princely Dane's philosophy is right,
For strange and true experiences lurk
There in the wings, preparing, out of sight.
To rend the veil of words is all their work,
That in our brains, as in the greater world,
Mystery’s blank standard may be unfurled.