Integrity on Trial
by Odin Roark

What is out there
that colors our inner being at will,
that sometimes takes our hand,
that sometimes drags us across their rusted yesterday,
daring us to coalesce with their future?

What is out there
that waits in the darkness for us to falter,
that thinks our will is but a matter of time,
that marvels at the pain we'll willingly endure.

What is out there
that is so patient
as to sleep while we run,
to laugh as we cry
to wait with outstretched hand
as our thinking becomes a skeptical crawl
searching for the truth.

Wanting to believe in factuality is also out there
somewhere in the illusory world.