I’ve found that my indefinable truths are hard to hide.
I can’t hold on to what I don’t fully understand,
it escapes from me unhindered by the label I've yet to stick on it.
Then how easily the world captures what I can’t even find words for,
how quickly it encircles what I perceive boundless,
for my truth must belong in this box or that box and
when it’s all wrapped up and labeled accordingly,
the world delivers my truth back to me, and tells me
I can accept and acknowledge or reject and deny this gift of a definition.
So generous, to give me options, yet
somehow I suspect that I have no choice, for
because I cannot define what I hold unswervingly and confusingly true,
the world and its definition will always appear more credible than me.