Truth is rarely understood;
For all the kicking and screaming we do,
It is still there.
If but for a moment we could stop our rage,
An avalanche of emotions,
And oceans of tears would follow,
Laying bare the lands of our soul,
Allowing purity to blossom;
And glimpsing for a moment with our tired eyes,
The truth in kindred light,
We might remember to let go and be at peace.
If but for a moment we would rest,
And free ourselves of our binding torment,
There would be nothing to destroy,
Nor burn, nor wash away. We would bleed
Only as the sun went down,
And re-awaken refreshed at the coming of dawn,
Full of the strength of truth’s light,
And the knowledge that we have endured.
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