Truth

I met a man
who said he knew
the truth.
He delighted
in telling me,
leading me.
His words merely confused,
though he spoke of liberation
Of peace.
His face was grey
And heavy,
I felt the breath leave me.
My heart raced.
I was confined.
And the darkness of which he spoke
Enveloped me.
But of truth
There was nothing.
Only words
And demands.
So I ceased to hear
And turned my face away
But the wind was relentless
Battering
Pushing
Tickling
Begging.
I relaxed
Hearing its call
Followed
And here
I am.

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