Now
I’m forty-four

it’s
time to consider:

do
I know what’s true?

Is
everything really as I figure?

Do
I find out from the horse’s mouth,

from
experience my own?

Or
do I fashion truth to suit myself,

self-referential
only,

my
omniscience assumed,

I
never need ask another?

Do
I face my fears

and
learn the truth,

though
I’d rather not?

Or
I am I fictionist,

content
with my own version,

my
own surety,

no
peer-review,

no
transparency,

accountable
to none?

 

©
Palitja Moore, image and text, 2017