Truth is in a Pitcher

by Taufiq bin Abdul Khalid

Truth is in a pitcher,
And the pitcher is filled with honey,
It is on a table, in a tidy corner
Of a far-off cosmos,
Around the table, a host of angels
Drink ale and mead,
Beside them a saint plucks the strings of his harp
And set in motion, the ways,
The whys and the whatnots,
For a little mortal called me.
Between his dancing fingers,
Lies my life, in all its folly,
Though I am sober enough to say,
“Hail, Angels, hail!
Do yea not know
That wine is finer
Than mead or ale?"