What is Truth?

What is truth?

Is it the feeling of guilt

As one spills their follies of youth

Yet the answer may never come.

Or is it the confession of something?

That moment of rushing answers

Greater than a torrent of water.

Yet the answer may never come.

Is it that which by you are judged?

Hidden in some dungeon of the mind

Plucked as a perfect piece of proof

Yet the answer may never come.

Could it be that one accidental line?

That kernel of something hidden

Which slips away like sand through a hand

Yet the answer may never come.

Is it all of those things?

Any revealing of some unknown thing

Whether hidden out of shame or purposeful deceit.

Yet the answer may never come.