To live in a lie is to what exactly?
Is it that much different than what you are
doing now, in this moment? Are you lying,
bare skinned, on your couch, lounging away
this day in hopelessness until the sun sets
and rises its yellow head, punches you back
up again? Or are you, perhaps, shot right out
of a cannon by night fall? Did those stars envy
you, at least in your eyes; did they call out one
name that you thought was yours until it felt
harsh even on your own tongue?
Perhaps we are all too unknowing.
Perhaps we are all but one, afraid of the fell
of darkness in night, the sound of peace in day,
the feel of truth in light.
September 26, 2013