Shattered Fate

I fear that truth is not objective. It is almost a horror that impels me to believe there is a single way things are, or that we can ever find our way to them, for as I come ever closer to our most perfect understandings of truth, I realize that they are nothing more than convincing arguments. Neither natural nor necessary, but that they might be woven as tacitly from artifice as from yarn, and that I am no truth-seeker, but merely a consumer, delving deeply into those theories of truth that suit me best, my choices no more justified than that which guides the hand to the meat or the bread.

But perhaps there is some Nature to that reaching. Though it matter not whether a man choose meat or bread, surely he must reach for something. And perhaps that is the only truth we can know for certain, that we must seek truth, or be forever empty.