Question 3.4

Truth is a dead baby
and that is the truth.

I feel it as our not-quite-consensual silent agreement
to dance to the throbbing techno beat of our creation
and call our primal reaction
a choice
and that is the truth.

I feel dusty inside,
and that is the truth.

Truth is liquid,
borderless,
indefinable,
that sweet elusive,
of a moment caught,
but never held
and that is the truth.

I have spent so much time dreaming about dreaming,
a hope to yearn for the chance to want,
to desire wholly,
to know myself enough to know that I crave,
and that is the truth.

Truth is a lie,
a word, a phrase, a look, a life
all of it spent to prove something,
to insist upon the architecture of the world
that there is solidity here, substance, permanence.

I feel that I am,
and try as I might,
I cannot escape the tyranny of BE,
and yet, I would only be so surprised if I were to discover
that the foundations of our basest metaphysical assumption,
the take-it-for-granted simple bald faced fact that WE ARE
is no more real than the faces of my dreams.
So I must insist on this truth,
All foundations are poured,
rested and eventually cured on and by the foundations of more
assumptions,
assumptions we would die for with a smile of sweetest satisfaction on our corpse.

I have built my life out of toothpicks.......................................and that is the truth.