I went to a store that sold startups, with an idea to change the world.
I told them we would sell the truth and make millions.
How would that work, they asked?
Surely, selling a vial of truth between so many lies could be a task.
I told them I had bottled separate flavours for everyone,
A separate kind of packaging to convince everyone under the sun.
For you see, each person had their own truth,
And each person believed in the righteousness of their belief without a doubt.
So the traditionalist had a flavour, strong at it’s core,
The progressive had a mellow flavour that brought his intentions to the fore.
The activist had a flavour composed of intellect and grit,
The artist got some notes of rainbows and banana splits.
The intellectual will covet a small vial of intelligence squeezed from centuries of hard work,
The philistine will love flavours of reality television blended with everyday quirks.
How will you market these flavours, they asked.
I told them it was hardly a task.
For you see, faith is a heady feeling capable of destroying careers and homes,
It makes reality seem like a misplaced syndrome.
All I have to do is market the truth with a some lies,
Repeat them until they sound like the absolutely wise.
Together, we will become the next big startup story.
You, me and our collective faiths, warring for glory.
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