There’s a truth in all of us. This is the one we’re not quite proud of, a persistent thing that won’t disappear even though we’ve hidden it in the farthest and coldest recesses of our minds. We ignore it and yet it creeps in front of us like a contender who adamantly refuses to surrender the fight even though they are beaten and bleeding, broken and smashed beyond recognition. But we recognize it because it is our truth.
At some point, you correlate stagnancy and stillness, which the world has inched around you, with this truth. There’s a point when we exhaust the battle and we give in to accepting this truth. Understanding this truth, embracing it, is probably one of the greatest thing we can do for ourselves because that moment of surrender seems to be the pass to moving forward, for the world to suddenly open up and rejoice in the individual we are meant to be… the truth that one must be.
truth is the indigenous love,
the first occupiers repressed,
forgotten, depressed because
it is primary; and primitive often
castes doubts and distorts the image
in the mirror before me, of who and
what i need to be, instead, my
mission thwarted by reclusivity;
i downplayed the meaning, even
thought impossibility, but the god
inside refuses and stands up for me.
in faith, this occurs naturally;
truth reincarnates out of necessity