Lillies and Ghosts

True

Table top toes collided with nothingness,

Populations of red blood cells,

Flowing endlessly through bottomless ravines.

Out here is the sky,

Down there is the void,

We are surrounded by time,

But time is subjective to reality.

What is your reality?

Does your reality run on the cuts of your wrists?

Or the breaths you take?

The tics on a clock do not care about your precious blood,

They are only used to measure your oxygen intake,

Before blood runs out.

Someday, we will sleep forever,

And dream in the land  of ancient tales.

Is it the truth we are seeing, or is truth subjective, as well?

The sky is blue to those who see in color,

And that may be the truth.

For those who do not,

Are they only correct 50% of the time?

The sky is grey for those who see in monotone,

And for me, what am I to them?

Of course, the sky is a lie to those who cannot see at all.

The words on this screen are subjective to them.

Is the truth real?

What is the truth?

One cannot simply say, "Honesty is good",

For, it might play well into your part,

But it could strike down another.

Honesty? 

Truth?

They are not synonymous.

Honesty is reciting what is true of your part.

But truth is subjective,

Because what is your truth may not be another's.

And, see this is where we draw a blank.

The sky is blue to me,

The sky is grey to other's,

And, perhaps, to you, there just may not be a sky.

All of those are true.