Easy does it when you try
separating fact from fiction.
What appears at first a lie
might have been the source of friction.
Things are seldom what they seem;
faith felt genuine, but was it?
While arousing from a dream,
easy does it.
In my childhood I believed
truth’s as black and white as painted,
unaware that some perceived
shades of grey as well acquainted
mentors of inquiring minds.
Through the game, I learned a smile would
pass for certainty that blinds,
in my childhood.
Far above us, pundits pounce;
preachers prime the Sunday sermon.
Both are ready to denounce
scrutiny from lowly vermin.
Truth lies halfway through the mist
in the hearts of those who love us.
Yours and mine can coexist
far above us.
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