Man’s Best Friend

Man’s Best Friend.

A phrase oft repeated, perhaps too repeated,

now resigned to tired cliché.

But inside cliché, past the banality,

in the depths of its core,

we find central truths

common enough to the human experience

to bare the weight of their repetition.

“Blue as the sky” or “white as snow”;

expressions dulled by overuse

but just as obvious and genuine

as the day they were coined.

Then perhaps one such central truth can be found in

Man’s Best Friend?

If Man’s Best Friend is indeed a cliché,

it is through the countless lives of humans

entwined with those of dogs,

so pervasively through our collective existence

that the phrase itself has been etched in our minds,

ready to be recalled at a moment’s notice,

its central truth so evident

that no explanation is needed

when someone says 

Man’s Best Friend.

I cannot speak for the throngs of the living,

and am ill equipped to commune with those long passed;

I cannot see all the souls

who have been touched by

Man’s Best Friend.

But I can say one thing

with absolute certainty;

my dog is

My Best Friend,

and no cliché can mask that truth.

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