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The Truth is Not in Me
by Fred Pifer.
The clouds of illusion, the slight of hand, a magician is what I am.
I create my reality from top to bottom, then fill it out with depth.
I am my own creator and god of this world within;
I suspect that the truth is not in me.
I have exercised my options and bent the facts, as I crafted this package.
I seem to be solid as rock, but I'm just sea foam blown away by the slightest breeze.
My world is hollow and my foundation is shifting as if an earthquake has passed.
I believe that the truth is not in me.
I am a sham, just a fool, without content or meaning.
How did I build this house of cards without even knowing?
Even I was taken in by the deception of this enormous hoax.
I see that the truth is not in me.
What now? I ask, as I see this monstrosity before me gleaming in the night.
I now know the evil that lives within those pristine walls of white.
It is a trap for some unsuspecting, trusting wanderer looking for rest;
I know that the truth is not in me.
I must begin tearing down these walls and opening up the interior to true light;
Allowing the fresh air to rush into the stagnant musty mist within.
Without shame, throw off these clothes of this game, now I stand naked.
I begin to destroy the lie that is within me.
The power of truth allows me to break up this den of iniquity inside.
I now see the remnant residue with it's pale dust rising to the heavens;
Looking like the landscape, after a bulldozer has razed an old useless building.
From this rubble I can say that the lie is no longer within me.
Now the new construction is being built, not by me or my ego,
As I invited the power of truth to build its own abode.
This new me is still under construction, but reality has already moved in.
I can never again say that the truth is not in me.
31Dec07
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