Is it something you feel?
Or something left over,
From a forgotten past.
Or maybe glimpses of the future
We can only wonder.
How do we find the truth? Is the truth in a dream?
Or is it elsewhere, behind a locked door?
Or maybe in someone else
A friend, perhaps, or a total stranger.
Or...what if truth does not exist?
Are we, then, nothing but lies?
Perhaps that all of what we are
Is a lie, is not real...
Lives filled with shadows and light but all a lie
All non-existent, without purpose.