everyone writes about the truth
their search for truth
their path to truth
as if there isn't only one
and it isn't only theirs
as if it's something they can find
outside themselves
or within themselves
Well, hell!
maybe they're right
but to me, you know
there is only one truth
and every true glimpse you
can catch of it, of a piece of
it, of a truth
you can grasp,
you can hold,
you can name,
you can call your own,
if you want.
But the truth is,
that truth
of yours, yes
- that truth you have
found - if it is true
at all, then it is only
a small part.
A part of the only
truth there is.
The truth is,
the truth is one
hand, with many,
many creepy
wiggling
fingers
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