truth

The storm has but one eye
Although outside the tempest rages!

How singular the human life,
So briefly held afloat by its own ambition.

A single self-conscious convex lens,
Tossed atop the tides of change,

Peering inward through the blinding rain
To catch an illuminated glimpse of its own continuum.

The sole weary wanderer
Of the rolling byways of experience.

Yet how rich the winding turns,
How rife with fleeting meaning.

Constructed contrast bears the senses
Through interminable vaults of connotation.

But even when the veil of difference is pulled aside
A staid-fast implication still resides.

The inherent presence that remains
Can still captivate attention.

For the significance of that which does not fall away
Is constant in self-evidence.