Without Truth
Jul 28, 2017 · 1 min read
One day, I caught a glimpse
truth, all border and no gradient
a point of no space
and with it came such despair
Sit with it, sit in it
sit within
anything else is further
than a distant relative
so I dreamt
so I dreamt
There is this space
between hate and hate
where it grips between dark symmetry
naked.
When I slip on my visor
a warrior in its name
like this
like thus
I, you, in that lance we thrust
as we galloped for the better sun
onward, forward
until I fell and caught that glimpse:
truth has no lance
and all blood is by my hands


