When the one who has been adored
and propped up on a pedestal
with full and willing consent
of many others
is exposed,
revealed
as nothing at all 
related to what you had presumed
to be truth because you trusted what
was spoon fed to you rather than discern:

void, of course.
And then—

a thousand stars are born within, at last
set free and spinning in proper orbit
around their central sun, shining soul
where you had seen or been shown
only a hole,
echo chamber,
the lonely ever in between. 
Yet, what is seen cannot be unseen
and pierced by truth you must choose
to bury yourself or to be born anew.