Brief Uncertainty
I am torn in two.
Does the truth matter? Am I man enough to forget the past, to leave my misconceptions at the door?
Can I wipe the slate clean?
Within the hollow shell of my flesh, my soul screams out for release. My mind is an efficient jail-master, a keeper of the keys so inept as to lose sight of the lock all-together. It was chosen for this job special. It excels in its very mediocrity, for there is no place here for a sharp and clear mind. A mind that sees the truth dissolves. None can behold our own being in full and still believe we are separate.
I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds good, so I’ll let it stay.
