the things i perceive are not truth,
nor are they fiction,
but passing through the realm between,
a phantom existence,
there for a single moment - gone the next.
i think they are real,
they are truth,
they are the new gospel,
and i follow the truth i make until it becomes real,
and lose myself in the process.
to find myself again,
a path not simple to find -
it begins and ends with a choice:
i am important, at first,
and i do not matter, at last.