Truth: Inquiry

I tend to preach about that which I think I believe in,
Dangerous territory to tread in,
When you yourself are still learning who you are,
Or what you actually hold true,
Yes I son of Samuel and Marcel Brown,
Have struggled immensely with that as of late,
What do I hold true,
And do I actually stick to it?
For the longest I paraded about the streets of life,
Megaphone in hand proclaiming to they world that I knew myself,
Know thyself,
My self, My God,
I hadn’t the foggiest idea,
Of what I was to become,
Years spent rejecting the norm,
Years spent weathering the storm,
Torn I was between the world that had birthed me,
And that which welcomed me into its logic and queries,
Question God and question the scary facts of life,
Question government and their many packs of lies,
Question the people, women with their round backs and thighs,
Beautiful brown eyes,
Full lips,
Speaking words, arrowtips,
Punctures to the soul,
I cried out after my “in love” with a voice that exclaimed no,
Question.
The.
Truth.
For few of us know it.
Not even I, I’m simply a seeker like you,
A wayfarer praying the sojourn isn’t too treacherous,
Yet I’m prepared for anything.

FKJR