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.
Copyright © Andrew Delapruch | Year Posted 2012
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