Theoretical Holes

There was so little certainty in this world.

After what seems like endless post-modernist deconstructions, little seems of value.

So little I could count on, certainty was always just out of reach.

Slowly... I became aware of a need within me,

         A need to be sure of something.

This need grew inside me until it demanded satisfaction.

In giving in to this need I decided to build myself a Truth.

Night and day I struggled with the existential materials,

   Plato, Kierkegaard, a block of Satre a cognitive spanner,

              and a piece of lumber.

Twenty four, forty eight, seventy two.

  I don't know and I can’t prove how long it took.

 Yet I laboured until, I think, I thought I could build no more.

 But eventually I held IT, or IT held me.

Our moments crossed, like Pearls in the night and IT was beautiful.

          At last certainty was mine!

I had constructed my very own TRUTH, an absolute, a one hundred percent certainty!

Of course like any proud parent I longed to show this TRUTH.

How I wanted to hear them all say, "That’s the TRUTH of IT!" 

I pushed my TRUTH deep into my pocket and rushed onto the street....

Wouldn't you know it... the street was deserted, not a soul in sight.

I hurried back inside... picked up the phone... and the bloody thing was dead.

I sat back in my comfortable chair waiting.

Waiting for the eventual knock at the door,

The inevitable moment of conquest, when my TRUTH would be known.

Sometime later.... I was awakened by the ringing of the telephone.

Hurriedly I answered the call, simultaneously reaching for my TRUTH.

It WAS GONE... HAD I BEEN ROBED IN MY SLEEP?

I quickly dispensed with the caller... and preceded to inspect the pocket in question.

The TRUTH I had built... had slipped out via a Theoretical HOLE....

   Deconstructed by FATE in its moment of glory.

     POST-MODRENISM strikes again..... BLOODY TYPICAL!

© 1993 Barry R. McKee all rights reserved