Maybe I’m a liar.
But here is the truth.
There is no truth
That we could
possibly comprehend.

We couldn’t handle it.
So we chop it
Up into simple little
Pieces we can fathom.
Life is easier that way.
Then we try to impress those
Who haven’t a clue.

Like an unfinished puzzle
we’ve lost the
most important piece
to bringing it all together.

But it’s gotta be
here somewhere
Waiting to be found in order
To complete itself.

Like this poem waiting
To be found for someone
To read it.

I maybe a liar but I think
You’ve found it.