Truth Hurts

Truth is beauty and beauty is truth.

That’s all I know and all I need to know. It matters not who is the beholder or in the heart of which it is held. The eye, that you witness beauty with, with all of your beings; is a complete truth. I have found myself often like you, standing at the top of a mountain or at the edge of the ocean feet dangling in the air, dangling in the water.

What beautiful ripples we make on the surface of this great mass, like the Newtonian action in time. As if it were like the script of the Bic pen, the one that just keeps on giving, on inking. It truly is the one that keeps on feeding those who make the effort to be the witness.

These are the ones that see the signs in everything around them. Have you ever seen beauty, have you witnessed it, or rather have you discovered it? Even in a simple glimpse of daybreak or in the dead of night we can find these moments of truth and beauty.

Like the first time, you climbed the highest tree and as you looked down you saw this window into your world. This world is now framed by leaves and twigs of old and you, of history and sacrifice, of submission and order.

They bowed to the will of a creator in creation as you now bow under the shade of its branches to the creator in creation.

The view you see, the world from a step back, a moment behind this moment, that is the real world. The worldview from this window is breathtaking. And you will never even appreciate it long enough to shed a tear at the order in which it finds itself defining the truth within the beauty and the beauty within the truth.

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