Truth?

Never more honest than in poetry,
Lyrically undressing and revealing...
Something.
An idea.
A moment.
The ghost of a picture,
The spirit of
Something
That may never have happened
But might sound lovely?
The novel threads of an
Emperor of folly?
The reflections of a man,
Of an artist,
Of a fairground mirror?
Or could it be the genuine
Truth of the matter?