In the nexus
Of an insecure world,
Lies cuddle together
Uncomfortably cushioned,
Intricately designed by
The silken hands of Fear.
A Lie well brewed
Served in a hot cuppa
With aromas of doom
Tastes like hurricane dressed in a coffee cloak.

Here’s my order: A cold cup of Truth.
No side dishes; it needs none.
Let my throat feel its cold prickle
Let me feel the pain tickle
Let the ice burn down these lies so fickle.
To Anguish — the brother of Truth
I tip my hat.
“Give me fifty lashes!”
I stripped down to my back
And patiently sat.
“Stop this madness”
My weary heart whispered,
While my soul, the masochist,
Warmed with every whimper.
As Pain flagged the summit
There gushed the holy fountain
Of Blood and Freedom — Truth’s great children.

I saw it at last.
What we mortals oft forget to see.
In the blanket of the night,
In the nakedness of day,
Give me Truth
With despair and dismay.
Take away Lie’s chintz armchair,
Throw it where Illusion may care.
My limping feet
Will walk through the coals
Into Truth’s fire
Into burning holes.