“The sugar of vanity, the honey of truth”
-Mary Oliver
Having sipped the froth off of a malt-barley day and having taken into account every mortal thing, I sit and I weep. They are tears of salt-mourning that come because no one longs for truth. Men that felt hot lead in their heart and cold steel on their neck because some blaze within them would not stop until the world was set afire-they are dead, and with them the conviction of the thing.
Shall we lick pleasantly at the many-colored confections of pride and greed? Do we suck at them vainly until our teeth rot?
But when the amber flow – that sweetness not lacking in substance – glistens in the mid-December sun… taste it. Its thickness is refreshing, and its goodness will remind you that things do, in fact, taste better with truth.
