And what do you leave behind

in the places that you entered?

Is it the fumes of fear or

the spirits of the sanctity of

everything not made by you

and not to be ruled by man, ever.

It is a choice that begins in

the heart. The answer can only

form somewhere silent and

may never come and if that’s

the case the task is to wait until

further instruction and endure the fact

that truth isn’t made of the ink

from your pen, penis or pistol.

Truth isn’t ours to judge or keep or

bestow onto others.

It reveals all that it must

when it wants when we’re ready.

And this, we just

have to get over.