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.