Is there a truth

Is there a truth

Out there

Does it lie somewhere

Hidden beneath a pile

Of old books.

Un-read stories

With false starts

And never endings

Does nothing exist

Outside my head

Is the world a creation

In my own image

A reflection of what to expect

From memories

I demand

To be redrawn

Painted in colours

I used to see

Carried on rainbows.

It mattered not

Where they would end

I swam in a sea

Of red and yellow

Pillowed my head

In fields of green

Sank into blue tones

Floated between

Indigo and violet

Which is neither

Black nor white

I still look for the light

But have lost

The wrong and the right

Of my life

Reason has merged

The edges blurred

The image marred

With the thought

That it might mean

Something

Completely different

How would I know

When nothing I see

Is free from the

Blindness of bias

Subtly

Created by me.