Truth Is

Truth is,

while we drift, seemingly alone,

on our separate clouds of ecstasy,

we hide from

what lies 

within the depths of our own humanity. 

Voiceless, 

or so we deem,  

the souls of those that lay before us.

Oblivious, are we?

So into oblivion we shall fade. 




Truth is,

we believe in our own ignorance,

proudly, stubbornly so.

Faith and goodness,

and all we hold on to,

futile

till through the fires they go.

And if they remain 

shimmering, glimmering

amidst the ashes of deep cold scars,

so shall they rise from their heap 

and forever be

with the immortal dust of stars.




Truth is?

Truth is,

whether it stands tall and proud

or hides silently 

behind the dark foreboding of clouds

So we search it, 

twist it, paint it, stretch it, 

for all it cares

but we shall only see what we want to see

while truth

mourns in the corner,

laughing

at the loss of our sanity.