Truth

If I were to wield a brush for a painting for all to see
Is my palette the truth, or the truth by me
For demons that live in men stir from depths of the heart.
Wielding the palette of ignorance and doubt to pass as art.
An unsullied mind is open to the shades of misdirection.
As the unyielding are armoured against the hues of liberation.
Is good and right upheld if the image is cast in gray
And hope the message, truth and justice is carried anyway
To banish hues of doubt and malice that I shall find.
I shall no doubt wash it with colors from my heart and mind.
Will the painting be less or more faithful, that I cannot tell.
Unless creation is parcel of truth as well.

6.2.2010