Her Absolute Truth

Blown full bloom at dawn, withered at dusk,
What is the truth of these two?
Full of green at spring, bare in autumn,
Both are truths in seasons unfurled.

This or that as times change, opposites surface,
Left and right of the nature's gift;
Refractions all in time's fast changing prism,
Blind man's touch of elephant's parts.

Man lives in spectrums of time's wild spell,
Blind to truth that exists beneath;
Dawn and dusk, and spring and autumn, true,
Partial truths of the complete truth.

Parts are truths, completeness whole truth,
Parts and whole make absolute truth;
Time gives no lies, just magnifies time slots
To navigate time's turbulent ocean.

I saw her young, fragrant, fresh, divine to look,
I saw her at dusk, withering, wizened;
She is both, truths in time's ranging fields,
But intact in beauty as absolute truth.

She's jasmine in fragrance, rose in vivid shades,
Pure as morn's dews and sunshine;
Vivacious, innocent; sparkling diamond, dazzling -
At dawn or dusk, her absolute truth.

At spring or autumn, be it that at dawn or dusk,
Time touches not her innocence;
Time withers and wizens, but glow keeps intact
And adds dimensions of inner spring.

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