if there is a truth out there, it cannot be identified
for no truth stands out, or stands alone.
no truth is open to depiction or a context of translation
from its authenticity setting.
truth lives but cannot be solely identified.
truth has an inborn integrity to it existence
and there are no still shots of truth
being functionally possible.
when truth is offered,
as if in a conversational sense,
all that is happening is a reference is made
and there is agreement to contextually agree about it
yet comprehension, not being essentially accounted for.
truth appears as a wardrobe worn of consciousness
but truth is so embedded in the depth of consciousness
that it has no surface, no construct, no elements
that are not without massive integration
immersed into the whole.
every remark launched as truth spoken
only begets a limited view of an unending story
that swallows the whole of ever being more than a story
because it is, in and of itself,
part of a greater truth
that can not be told in that manner.
practical, sensible, logical and sane all have their limits
as to how truth should be referred to and handled.
we can make inference as a reasoning dance
but to stand shoulder to shoulder
and take a photo of the two, you and truth,
is egomaniacally absurd
and fruitlessly self-congratulatory,
under a false pretense to start.
the nature of truth does not condescend
into human appraisal and chatter.
no mouth can articulate the truth as if in language.
you, as the isness of yourself, are the truth
but the experience of language is reductionism refined.
the truth will have none of it
as so simplistically designed.
the world of expectations could not qualify
as ever being in the receivership of truth.
common sense and sanity are too regulatory
to even create assessment towards the truth.
we are the superlative bargain to be living it
even if we haven’t got a clue
as to what it truly means . . .