a room so dark—
so dark,
mistook for blindness,
hiding within it
a door,
whose presence made known
only by the glow of light behind it
spilling through gaps in its frame,
stabbing into the dark of
the unknown surround.

said a man
once, on the subject
“the unexamined life is not worth living”
his crass intent to
pry us from our
self imposed ignorance of self.

for—behind that door
lies the truth of a man,
freedom from ignorance owned by the shade, to
either, shed anew a light of validation, or
burn as an inferno and dictate correction.

the barrier,
held by simple latch obscuring truth’s illume.
a ****, whose demand be concentration,
its twist performed by
unbiased contemplation,
honest self examination.

that hidden behind such curtain
we cannot know until its opening.
the door—our veil of untruth,
whose lift made possible by word
of a wise man.