POEM BY PHAIDON THEOFILOU
What is truth?
The lie asked shaping up its makeup.
Truth is the birth of man dressed in its innocence,
the mind of life answered.
He becomes an adult and doesn’t know which lie to choose
he chooses a different lie in each and every case
as one picks a color.
What comes next?
The unaltered final truth appears:
the hospitable soil that consumes everything.