Baptized in the blood of our makers
We come screaming into the world
Our frai, impressonable minds
carefully woven with threads
of half-truths and the succulent lure
of their other halves

Unable to resist the pull of that lure
we blindly follow the advice of our makers
and journey out into the world
seeking out whatever completion those halves
may give to the enigmas our minds
have created in the absence of the missing threads

It is terrifying then, that the world
contains not a single one of the halves
we seek, but only other crafted threads
of even more complexity, the art of the makers
who made us, and so on. Only strengthening the lure
within us, the irresistable urge to set our minds

at east, to squelch the fear that only half
truths exist, that somewhere, perhaps a single thread
will bind all the deceptions of our makers
into some concrete pattern. Something for our minds
to see as a foundation of which to base our new world
and thus put an end to the seemingly infinite lures

placed expertly before our eyes to cloud our minds
so that we will not ask the right questions. Snared by these lures
that tangle our perception and prejudices in a half
accurate portrait of what this bloody new world
of manipulations and shadow enemies is. By threading
unrelated halves together, we have be so exquisitely blinded by our makers

that perceiving the truth behind the tangled skein of thread
is impossible for us, the parameters of our minds
utterly set in the coming years by the half
revealed origins of our kind. So, we cease being lured,
and either deny all we have learned, or accept our makers'
deceptions and pass them along to the generations we bring into the world.

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