Of course I want the truth,
but here’s the rub:

Truth doesn’t sit around
still as a rock,

it breathes and flows
and turns inside out.

Ever seen a lion in a cage?
He paces and glowers.

That must be how God feels
locked in our little religions.

Look how big the sky is,
the deep distances between stars.

Little speck, that’s you;
laughable speck, that’s me.

How could we contain The Truth,
all that overwhelming light?

Our truth is just a pinprick
in mystery’s velvet curtain.

Even so, see how we struggle
to fix an eyeball to that—

peepshow’s tiny window.