Perplexing, it is, coming to the sudden realization that truth and all means of the term are suddenly as fluid as a simple covalent bond. What is truth.(?)
Perplexing, for one. Secondly, it would be under the same analysis that truth is relative to the eye of the preciever. What you know and what is, is not always compatible, in so much that your truth, then becomes relative or objective.
My objective truth is that pain, hurt, anguish, and life (for that matter) are all sitting front row as this masquerade of life starring myself, which seems to beat onward and belt loudly.
(It's not over till the fat lady sings)
Perhaps the "fat" lady has been belting tunes for ages only to find that there is nobody there to listen. Certainly, it's plausible and ready to assume that the "fat" lady could be singing, but only to reveal that with every ending we are readily introduced to and greater or equal evil. Or, perhaps the "fat" lady is a parallel or euphemism for the end itself, and the singing is merely a celebration (of) the dark...(in) the dark.
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