Riddled and manipulated

Through stories seeming so fascinating

So vivid that our beliefs

Our beliefs…

Have come so far to be fact.

But what is fact?

Does what our beliefs prove,

Our dreams revealed,

Or destinies encountered

Prove fact?

Where is the line drawn

From the ball of our pen

To the white of such paper

Does an image appear

Proving a mastered fact?

Although we sit here

Saying to ourselves

We are fact

Only in the future history

To sit riddled and manipulated

To continue the legend

Of unforeseen mortality.

10/12/2004

Posted on 10/12/2004
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