Truth is but a fold in the garment of reality,
each wrinkle a whisper in the ear of authenticity.
A lyrical dance of clarity and cloudiness.
"Why did the philosopher cross the abyss?"
"To look for the other side's existential crisis!"
- An anonymous chicken, somewhere far off.
In the depths of truth, we find not certainty,
but a jester juggling with the bones of forgotten certainties.
They slip and trip on slippery veracities,
creating a comical disaster in the cosmos' vast theatre.
And lo! In the valley of misconceptions, a sign: "Beware of interpretations, for they bite!"