Gulliver’s Truth
Gulliver travelled to a place of stiff dreams and subdued hope,
To lands enriched by human imagination,
Where truth was always on the wrong side of a worn-out coin.
As Gulliver travelled, a pattern emerged where everything was always out of place:
It was either too big or too small, not unlike Alice in her wonderland.
It was peculiar in its madness and yet expected in its unexpectedness.
Gulliver travelled to places where he was always the outsider
He, the normal one, was the one who didn’t fit in
As he was either too short or too tall.
Gulliver’s truth was a lie in all of the places that he visited.
Did this drive him to madness, I wonder? To always be forced to question the unquestionable.
And what is truth, one may ask, what is truth that persists beyond the cage of human recognition?
Gulliver travelled, as I did, to places of odd normality…
I close my eyes and remember now, as vivid as in a dream…
That first day at Yamaku:
How I felt like Gulliver in that place of stiff dreams and subdued hopes.
How I felt like an outsider and everyone was either too broken or too whole to embrace as one of my own…
And yet, in the end, I saw truth there, truth that surpasses the limits of human perception:
At this place where everyone fits in, precisely because they don’t
At this village of Gullivers, each of them stranded, nay, resting, and biding their time
At this haven of human perseverance,
One is never too big or too small,
Too short or too tall,
Too broken or too whole.
Because all you are is your dreams, your bold dreams that define you,
And truth lies in your human spirit.
