TRUTH MATTERS

Os Guinness, the great-great-great grandson of the great Irish brewer gave us lectures recently. He challenged us to be more creative in exposing the shallowness of modern thought. Here is my best effort Os, I hope it makes you proud.

Have you ever heard of that town?
It’s a dreary place,
Once was strong but now a disgrace.

Long ago there came a proud man;
Who held in hand,
A new truth from a far away land.


Taught he did, all colors the same,
Into the classroom he went and was praised!

“Oh little Timmy that green you see, is nothing more than a brown to me!”

Your greens are brown, your yellows too, your reds meaningless just like your blues.

When questioned, retorted, the proud man with a smile,
“You wouldn’t be so ignorant if you traveled a while!”

“Once thought like the rest of you,
But I traveled,
as I did, my whole worldview unraveled.

Stop this game of which colors the best, for I tell you that it is all a mess!”

Your greens are brown, your yellows too, your reds meaningless just like your blues.

And he preached, and the town believed,
Because he promised unending harmony.

So it came with such great might,
No one dared to put up a fight.

Thus the town was painted brown,
Oh what a fright,
The colors painted over, oh the terrible sight!

Your greens are brown, your yellows too, your reds meaningless just like your blues.

Silence grew, just like a cancer,
The proud man trotted ‘bout, and killed any banter.

A dissenter shouted, “But I like my red!”
Shut your mouth or off with your head!

“You see my friends, once we all agree,
There are no colors,
Think, dear town of the harmony!”

Your greens are brown, your yellows too, your reds meaningless just like your blues.

And so the town grew ever quiet,
No one dare be called arrogant or narrow –minded.

Sought harmony the town did as he reigned,
For who could ever question his game?

Thus lived the town, and drank its poison,
All confidence lost, all colorfulness voided.

Whatever happened in this town,
How did it fall,
For conquered the world and at one point had it all.

Harmony they sought, and silence they gained,
Truth they lost when they wagered this way:

Your greens are brown, your yellows too, your reds meaningless just like your blues.

They traded truth for a lie,
They drank their poison and had to die.

You see dear friend, truth be known,
It matters much, the differences in tone.

Reds are beautiful, blues are too, greens very different and yellows a wonderful hue. 

They are not the same, nor should they be,
Even for the sake of fake harmony.