unravel

Even what we trust the most
Like the definitely-there road
Or sky or something even less impermeable
Like the abstract realities
Of love... or life...
I mean the very knowledge of existence
Proves the reality of being, right?
But Descartes' self-determinance
And Nietzsche' self-centered universe
Speak nothing into the reality that is
So untrustworthy that the slightest
Misapprehension causes it to unravel
Entirely, until it is some pathetic illusion
Or former belief that I'm too ashamed
To even reference in the vaguest of terms
Because what may be is too terrible
And what is is too unsure
So I come in
And fall down
One step
Then slip
And surety is no more
Certainty is unveiled as the
Mythical abstraction it really is
Really is.
It really is.
This all really is...
Happening.
And today, maybe only today,
But today nevertheless,
It unraveled me.