Prisoners Dream of Portal Fantasies

Time to explore this blue sphere
Of world that you’ve found so far,

The world of all happenings
Never to be unhappened.

Every fiction starts from this;
All true stories stick with it.

From these priors, possibly,
You’ll deduce another truth—

No stories are ever true,
Or none have been true so far.

But it’s a slippery slope
Explanation climbs away

From that fly-trap, narrative,
Slippery and sticky both.

The sweet, dewy drops of truth
That lured you begin to close

Around you in green shadows,
And what started as your hunt

For truth becomes the story
Of how story’s hunting you.