The world around me lives, when I am silent
The things around me breathe, when I am still
Motionless I lay, watching the shadows play without me
I can only be.
Summed up in its entirety
is my life before me.
It would be a lie to run away.
I used to think that truth was beautiful. To see something or read something that is true was to see beauty in it.
I don't think that anymore.
I don't know what I think.
The truth is often painful and not beautiful or gratifying at all. Truth reaches and touches something of my soul that is sacred, yet not accepted.
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