The Trial

 

A great monk

With some unknown wine he was always drunk

He lived in the company of hills so high

And he could talk to the birds as they would fly

 

He became a beloved of the king and the masses

His appeal was beyond the classes

There was a rumour all around

And its whisper so profound

 

That he had come to know what truth was

The stuff with which you could make all the laws

Which was the source of the lasting glee

To all the secrets it was the key

 

One day when his country he decided to leave

Everybody started to mourn and grieve

When he was about to cross the border

He was arrested on royal order

 

With the greatest honour known to man

He was brought to the capital in royal caravan

The king and the queen came to the high gate

To welcome the prisoner so great

 

And he was requested to mount

On the seat paramount

The king himself sat on the floor with his kin

And ordered the trial to begin

 

“My Lord, this most venerable monk

With the wine of truth he is drunk

Everybody can smell

Yet he refuses to tell

 

The fact we want to expose

Is that he’s the only one who knows

And he’s the only one who can say

Still, with truth he was caught running away

 

The beloved of one and all

He was caught escaping through the great wall

He was bent upon leaving

Even as all of us were grieving”

 

In defence

Against this charge of a strange offence

The monk’s laughter filled the royal courtroom

With the fragrance of an unknown perfume

 

The king then announced

As the judgement was pronounced

“Our country won’t be the same without you

So, pray give us a clue

 

Before you leave please write a book

In which we could ever look

Where truth we could always find

O venerable monk, please be so kind”

 

As a royal guest

The monk wrote a book full of wisdom and jest

Covered in golden hue

It contained everything he knew

 

The monk was now free to leave

Even though the masses had continued to grieve

The king organised the farewell so grand

And accompanied him till the end of his land

 

The greatest book ever written

With truth it was smitten

Back in palace as the king read

The last passage said

 

“Before the ink dries

Away the truth flies

The written word is dead

Truth cannot be said”