Truth was never far away. 
It stood erect, 
And with resolve, 
Waited for the moment 
Of my will’s consent.

It was relentless, 
Devoid of error, 
Stalwart and persistent.

Truth was the beacon 
On the high mountain. 
It appealed to me 
On the level of the good.

It drew me 
As home beckons the lost. 
I journeyed closer, 
But as the light 
Revealed my tatters 
I drew back, 
Trapped by my choices.

Truth is a wedding garment, 
That clothes inwardly, 
As well as out. 
My espousals never produced 
A marriage of Truth and the holy. 
In its stead, I’d wed 
What I wanted. 
Now, I feared our distance, 
And what I had become.

Desiring the right, 
Even if I was wrong, 
I gathered courage to my breast 
And risked all in the quest.

I shed my rags 
And found a covering of prayer, 
A robe of humility, 
And came to Love 
In holy fear.

Now, I am 
Full of resolve, 
A stalwart knight 
On Truth’s high mountain, 
Carrying lighted torch 
To the Dark Valley, 
Into caverns of deception.

Standing tall before the Foe, 
Truth girds my waist, 
And undertakes to speak 
Light in the darkness.

I am become an army 
On the plain, 
As Truth marches not alone. 
It goes forth, 
Drawing with it men of valor, 
Choosing the death of Pride, 
And living as Truth’s Bride.

Joann Nelander