O ME, man of slack faith so long! <br /> Standing aloof--denying portions so long; <br /> Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth; <br /> Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none, <br /> but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon <br /> itself, <br /> Or as any law of the earth, or any natural production of the earth <br /> does. <br /> <br /> (This is curious, and may not be realized immediately--But it must be <br /> realized; <br /> I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest, <br /> And that the universe does.) <br /> <br /> Where has fail'd a perfect return, indifferent of lies or the truth? <br /> Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man? <br /> or in the meat and blood? 10 <br /> <br /> Meditating among liars, and retreating sternly into myself, I see <br /> that there are really no liars or lies after all, <br /> And that nothing fails its perfect return--And that what are called <br /> lies are perfect returns, <br /> And that each thing exactly represents itself, and what has preceded <br /> it, <br /> And that the truth includes all, and is compact, just as much as <br /> space is compact, <br /> And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth--but <br /> that all is truth without exception; <br /> And henceforth I will go celebrate anything I see or am, <br /> And sing and laugh, and deny nothing.<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-is-truth/
