On seeking truth in a vacuum

How fickle, 

the vessels we occupy,

venial, bloody,

complex.

 

Both, light and dense.

 

At odds with persona,

yet in search of truth,

that inconvenient 

insignificance.

 

Gathered in gaggle’s,

sheltered by like-mindedness.

None so blind

as the perfectly sighted,

 

the peripherally blighted.

 

And honesty,

what of that?

silenced for the sake of face,

what hope is there? 

when seeking truth

in finite measured space.