The Truth is a concept
The truth is our experience
The idea of there being one truth is not truth
And there is absolutely no absolute truth
You can search for the truth, like a truth sleuth
But if you force yours on others, well that’s a little uncouth
If you want to know what’s true, just catalog what you go through
Our idea of truth as something out there,
Is what turns hope to despair and causes wars to flare
and societies and families to rip and tear
At the fabric of their own tapestries and drapes
But the truth is that truth comes in infinite shapes
And colors and sizes.
You can’t “figure out” truth and hope to win prizes.
The truth is simple, it’s matter of fact.
It is the substance of our experience from moment to moment
It is the sublime taste of my afternoon snack
And it is the trauma or joy that my life tends to foment
The truth is made of perspectives and history and choices
When we narrow it down and say the truth is specific
We lose sight of our richness and discount other voices
This leads to acts that can be described as horrific
And well, that’s just terrific.
It is empowering when you finally realize
The truth is that our truths are true just for us
When we know that, we see with our real eyes
And the joy of living becomes a much fuller chorus.
