Questioning Socrates

I thought about good old Socrates

And jumping head first after truth, rapping at my windows,

All truth a lie, making its way to an unknown,

And words cannot convey, tho they try and my heart never lies

What did it mean, to find you?

Looking out my window on a bird of paradise, it’s you and not you, is me then

When I ask myself, why are you not blue or green, question to pursue truth, my heart thrills,

And muddled in leaves, blind, not knowing, bird of paradise, leaves giving me a clue

Held within, need I know, need I ask,

Why orange atall?

Orange doesn’t answer:

Silence:

My hearts words fall;

Orange