Single Truth

a single “truth” would dispose of her/his motivations, something so recognizable that the head could no longer be turned away, something that bubbled on the fine line between a stomach full of butterflies & a stomach full of wasps--- a single “truth” would condemn all the lies, holding up a mirror to the world with a hacking of a phlegm wad into the wrongs of history, regardless of whatever liar was lecturing & a single “truth” could get the heart pumping again, out from this deadened accident--- a single “truth” like the one great work that the artist dreams of, could change the former word to “can,” yes, a single “truth” could glue the puzzle pieces with permanent fixture & if unyielding, maybe it would stand the test of time & if unyielding, maybe it would start the positive ball rolling & if unyielding, maybe it would end the need of a world like “maybe”--- it might be something that could illuminate, it might be something to feel & not feel guilty about feeling, it might be something as beautiful as a soundtrack to die to, but it would bear no explanation, for it would be pure & it would bear no need for purity, because it would eliminate the other, but then it would have to present itself in some kind of place where all was diametrically opposed & yet the grey area remains--- the discovery of just how naïve a short human life can be, comes slapping like a hard hand to the face on the briskest of Winter days, reminding that all the inner workings of the actual body, churning, twisting & grinding all aspects of this biomechanical thing called a “self,” do so on their own, without the need of any questions, any “truth,” any meaning, any song to sing to.