I have sought truth with the diligence of a missing set of keys.
Never to find it. At least not in its whole state.
Its never altogether. Its always scattered in bits and pieces and the wind blows one or another in from time to time when I leave the door open.
And then I collect them...and try to solve the riddles written on them before they will even make any sense and then try to assemble them together...you know ..see if I have all the pieces yet. But I never do. And I find it so ironic that this search for truth entails deciphering lies more often than not and even more ironic that a majority of them are my own which I must have.tossed into the wind ages ago and forgotten about.