By Richard Mather
Languages are outposts
on the outskirts of being.
By voice and by text
we perform raids
on being,
but we find
it impossible
to capture being
in its entirety.
Now we know
these language-raids
are in vain:
There is
no being
to capture.
Being is a spook
that haunts our stations.
Lately there's been talk
of the extra-being
that rises
out of the
void of being:
And this is Truth.
Truth is not being at all.
Neither is it a being.
As a sacrifice to Truth,
(and to hide the fact
that being is void),
we sometimes try
to reveal a truth
by voice or text.
But attempting to enlight truth
will often conceal
more than it is
possible to reveal.
Really, apart from
the occasional
admission of truth,
we find concealment
of truth is
language's
main function.
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