Your truth. My truth. Must be quite a thing, truth.
Live it up. Live it down. Live into it.
It’s my truth. You can’t question. That’s uncouth.
Live it out. Live out loud. Live and do it.
I guess it sets me free to spill the beans.
To tell the world how good or bad it was.
It’s always bad, this truth of mine, it seems.
It’s always good to tell it just because
Your truth, my truth, never hides a lie.
Did it happen? I say so. Who’s asking?
They did it. I just slid it in a public cry.
It’s my truth. I claim it, so I’m basking.
Jesus, Elijah, Moses in a booth:
That tiny temple heart that holds my truth.