Deception that reads...

There's this!
Where I can hear the sound
of a steady stream flowing...
water runs through it.

I'm here to listen to,
the sound of my own voice
whispering.

Therefore, the truth cannot exist.

But I've imagined another place (in time.)

And I know.

I like it here.

Inspiration. Inquisition.

I've never been.

Intimidated because,
of being implicated?

Running.
Listening.
Fountain of youth.
A safer hazard.
How superficial.