poem

 BlueThe truth is what we make of itIt isn ’t power that suggests the sky is blueIt simply is, take it or leave it.Even the oceans whisper it ’s trueDespite what the physicists insist —Sunlight scatterings, schoolgirl illusions.The color blind see another kind of blueWhich is just as trueAs the one we perceive. But the liars and deceivers Never look up.They sit in rooms Hunched over desksYellowed by candlelightWritingblue, blue, blue, blueIn giant tomes That get translatedInto dozens of languagesBecause once it ’s a wordIt needs a foreign equivalent2/5/24

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - February 5, 2024 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs