We cling to our perspectives like crowns and call them truth. But what if every viewpoint is just one color in a much larger spectrum?

Spectrum of Our Reality is a poetic meditation on certainty, ego, and the quiet power of multiplicity.

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Spectrum of Our Reality

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We crown our little kingdoms “truth” and call the others blind,

As if the world were ours alone to edit and define.

We brand dissent as error, stamp our comfort as “the way,”

Then crucify a stranger for not doing what we say.

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We build our truths like fortresses and guard them with a flame,

Then point across the valley crying “Wrong!” in someone’s name.

As though agreement were the proof that righteousness is right,

And difference were a shadow cast by lesser moral light.

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We howl our doctrines at the moon like prophets dressed as kings,

Mistaking noise for wisdom and our fear for sacred things.

We bruise the earth with certainty, with claws of “should” and “must,”

Unwilling to admit our truths are shaped by bone and dust.

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We snarl at foreign footsteps on soil we never own,

Guarding borrowed narratives as if they were our throne.

We call it moral courage when we’re simply scared to bend,

As though a truth that fractures us could never be a friend.

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We carve our names in shifting sand and swear the tide is wrong,

Then rage when waves of difference refuse to play along.

We worship our perspective like a god that cannot fall—

Forgetting every mountain is a viewpoint, not the All. 

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Perhaps we are one body split in fragments made to see

The vastness from a thousand points of fragile clarity.

A prism turning single light to colors wild and free—

No shade more “true” than any other’s right to simply be.

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We are a living spectrum, stretched from shadow into flame,

Each vantage born of circumstance, history, and name.

No petal holds the whole of it, no voice the final call—

The flower only flourishes when it is fed by all.

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Link this one? You’ll love my poem, “Origin Story.” — Click here.

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