We are shaped
by the pressures, expectations,
definitions within which
we grow.
Even when we accept objective evidence,
interpretations encode what we know.
Tell me your truth.
I may accept, suspect, deflect, reject.
How are we to meet, to speak
bare of swords, of skewers?
What is mine, what is yours,
denies that all is ours,
and not ours – that we, you and me,
are not what matters.
And yet, of course to us,
is all that matters.
Is there an answer? (or nest of answers)
What is the question?
What is our quest,
if we allow ourselves that story?