The truth of life is in the lies untold,
Folding and heaving into the shatters of minute formations of love.
Like long lost raindrops into the ocean of despair,
Each moment of past is struggling in the scrape of mind.
Where to go and where to hide?
It’s a question of tumult formulations,
Like the decoction from plants of heaven,
Untold for the human foray into the causes of despair,
As ever and scrupulous; where lies are life,
For always because, hideous is the quest for truth.
In that silence where I ride my boat without a compass,
In that loneliness where I search for an island,
In that darkness where I imagine a beam out on search for life,
And here I know I keep traveling,
Into the lies and within lies,
At the least knowing if this is also a lie,
Perhaps till I find a truth to rest,
A love to decide,
And hang for ever, the head that keeps me thinking.
