SWT

The line of people, seemingly endless
‘Twas two kilometers or more.
It passed convenience stores and subway stops
And boutique coffee shops galore.
Every minute dozens joined the end
though the TV had forecast rain,
Because they all knew that what was offered now
Would not be seen again.

—

They moved along in silence
There was nothing to be said
Could easily have been a funeral procession
For someone not yet dead.
But all those there shared a purpose
Both the elders and the youth
If they managed to make it to the front of the line
They would finally learn the truth.

—

The truth, till now, hid in fancy dress
Under the desk at CNN.
In the basements of the White House
And the memoirs of old men.
In the Times and the Inquirer
Between the words of Paul and John
Under the covers of a Hollywood hotel
Where the customer was never wrong.

—

The people in the line moved on,
Assured that it was time,
For the Truth to be uncovered
and escape from the sublime.
Betrayal, lies and misconceptions
Were the menu of the day.
It was the dawning of  renaissance
They swore it would not get away.

—

When their time for revelation came
It was seldom what they had thought,
One man’s truth is another soul’s poison,
And most now became quite distraught.
Night and day they had stood in line
But in the end they had nothing to show.
Truth’s seat was now empty, replaced by a pot
In which lies had now started to grow.