Where Does This Truth Lie


Should I tell a deadly lie
Or blind truth in the nutshell? 

Can you accept that I can fly
Below the clouds
Yet soar so high within the canyon
Of my mind and find the wind
A gentle friend to fill 
My jacket or umbrella? 

Trees appear as a million grains of sand.
Michelangelo visited this place
I saw him paint the sky in passing
As he shared in my flight. 

He painted the canyon ochre,
I watched as a drop of paint dripped
From his palette, falling onto the land
Bleeding into the desert. 

Truly a lie would be pathetic
But more acceptable than the truth. 


Author - Michelle Legare
Copyright © 1999

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