One night, a man, long dead, visited me
It was his birth anniversary
The man needed no introduction
He arrived, on time, sat on the dais
In front of his own portrait
He delivered a short talk, the floor then opened for questions
Among the many questions, I too asked a question
Many of your experiments with truth have failed
Should you not revise the next edition of your book
The ever smiling man put his eyes straight into mine, and said
Hopefully, one day you will understand that
My experiments with truth never failed
One day you will appreciate I am still alive
One day you will rise to keep alive
My experiments with truth in newer contexts
It was time for me to wake up and conduct
My experiments with truth