Does truth bloom in tulips; has it the petals of a rose?
Or is it hidden within the breeze that softly tickles them both?

Truth leads to beauty
I’m told the versa would be a vice.
Function …
Therefore form …
Therefore image …
Therefore function …
Sometimes the color green is nothing more than simply something nice.

He bends His bows in colorful shows
To remind us of the promise He never forgot
At sunrise, our eyes surmise surprises
Etched into time before eternity began

I always dream in colors and often think in circles
But the hues of dreams and the shapes of things
Lead me back to the Author
Of rational minds that see irrational i’s
And of Pythagoras as well as his many triangles

Does truth hide in my dreams; is it just something you know?
Or is it whispered in the breeze that gently tickles us both?