As he sat there, alone, he finally knew it.
It was written in so many details of the world around him,
But with the mild subtlety
Needed to keep away the truth.
At least for long enough.
And it had been long enough:
The desperation of not knowing,
The vibrant thoughts of coming closer and closer
Only to find out he was on the wrong path.
Yes, he used to think that his life was like a boat
Heading towards an unknown destination.
And yet it was only unknown because he wasn’t heading anywhere
And there was no boat.
And so, as he sat there, on his own,
Finally knowing the truth about the entire world
- which wasn’t a world
And thus, ultimately, had no truth in it -
It was as if he wasn’t alone at all.
He still had
. ?
