in the presence of ghosts.

how do i know a lie is a lie, and the truth is true? and what of it when the lie is coming from the voice inside?

or, at least, the inside the outside gave me…

a lie can die a lie in peace with all its ugly because a lie finds tranquility in the silence of the truth it has buried.

but the truth cannot die peacefully because the untold does not rest, and the told that gets forgotten returns again.

the truth knows forgetting is work.

the lie knows its work is to erase memory.

the truth invites us to see and seek.

the lie weaponizes curiosity.

the truth beckons doubt and question, leaves bread crumbs to sniff out, investigate, and explore.

the lie redacts information, torches pages, and bans history.

the lie refuses depth and clarity.

the truth guides us through depthful transparency.

the lie rewards docility.

the truth demands resistance.

when they say, “you know the truth by the way it feels”, they don’t always warn that the feeling may make you queazy.

truth bleeds.

relief is insistent but, when truthful, may be delayed.

satisfaction of ignorance is instant. weightlessness in its emptiness without the truth to fill it.

to a lie the truth is a weapon.

truth, when buried grows roots like thorns.

the gardener knows how to tend it.

the teller knows how to tell it.

truth is rarely clean or tidy.

a lie glistens in the reflection of ruin...

the lie is ghastly

the truth is ghostly.

one has the power to kill the other the responsibility to haunt.

and here we find ourselves, in the presence of ghosts.

– ei