A Better Truth Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Do not
know if
you believe
pain and being
are alike two sleeves
or are you shirtless, hard
of all clinging feelings; explain
this to me with any stories, myths
legend, mirth's; of bare-chested gods
and or common heroes that may mirror
what you see within you. Me, at times I
think IAM a simplified being of form, of
substantive thoughts; that I may indeed
be able to lead an unruly mob. Me, driving
the herd in motion, feeling all that each being
feels through my essence; this is there clearly to
be seen and read and further mirrored. But these
images are not so clear, IAM unable to view and
figure out exactly that, which is my carnal body
from that which is my eternal soul … earth
bound held in a reality of idle stasis lock
stepping through living experiences, with
no clarifying direction as all things are, as
other beings stare; guides and guardians
neither guiding, nor guarding, a vast field
of wildflowers and weeds, some nourishing
and many not. My being, through all history
remains the uncultivated mystery, inexact
science, or streaming divinity. My soul full
of holes filled, with unclear images of
either a present cursed, or a future
much worse … Currently, everyone
who may come to visualize this
inconsistency mulls over the bits
they each sense and see and realize
an understanding of is this: as much
as IAM, IAM yet incomplete of my
reason for being and this is very
clarifying, and so much
a better truth.