What is the truest,
most beautiful truth you
know for yourself
right now?

Not the “truth,”
external,
imposed,
from out there.

No.

I want to know
the deep, quiet beauty
that is so lovely it seems
impossible,
the truth that whispers
in those quiet moments when
there is no droning
of pundits
or parroters
or pontificators.

The truth that glimmers,
otherworldly,
resplendent,
abundant,
beckoning
from the realest
part of you.

The one that is
so warm,
so healing,
if it spilled over
it could change
the world.

When you glimpse it
again
and sit silent,
remembering,
let it tease the threads
of your imagination
long enough to
coax it into knowing
less ephemeral.

Let its
golden radience
permeate
your awareness
and then nurture it,
returning to the silence,
whenever it feels dim.

You need this now,
your deepest truth,
when external “truth” is
pulled taut between
two extremes
and one is clamoring
even more violently
for your allegiance.

You need
the touchstone
of the beauty of
your inner mooring
to untangle the lies,
to see clearly,
to set us all free.