Truth has no special time of its own. Its hour is now – always. – Albert Schweitzer- -- AKSHR

 

 Truth has no special time of its own. 

 Its hour is now – always. 

 – Albert Schweitzer

The whispered truth, a fleeting sigh,

A whispered truth that dances nigh.

No gilded hour, no sacred space,

Its presence found in time and grace.

 

The dawn's first blush, the fading light,

Hold truth's embrace, both day and night.

In silent stars, or bustling street,

Truth's potent voice, forever meet.

 

The ancient scroll, the modern page,

Reveal the truth in every stage.

From whispered word to thunderous roar,

Truth's constant echo evermore.

 

No clock can mark its special time,

Its timeless presence, a sacred rhyme.

For truth, a flame that brightly burns,

In every moment, truly learns.

 

So heed the now, the ever-then,

Where truth resides, 'midst mortal men.

Its hour is now, its hour is all,

Truth's radiant light, stands tall and tall.

AKSHR

Too many people overvalue what they are not and undervalue what they are. – Malcolm Forbes --- AKSHR

 

Too many people overvalue what they are not 

and undervalue what they are. 

 – Malcolm Forbes

 

A gilded cage, a whispered plea,

For facets bright, for all to see.

They chase the gleam, the painted smile,

A hollow echo, all the while.

 

The crafted self, a mask so fine,

Conceals the soul, a heart entwined

With fragile threads, and whispered fears,

While worth untold, in quiet tears.

 

The artist's hand, the dancer's grace,

Lie dormant deep, in time and space.

A hidden talent, soft and low,

Neglected gifts, a silent flow.

 

The strength within, the spirit's fire,

Is dimmed by shadows, set afire

By fleeting praise, and fleeting fame,

A hollow echo, a whispered name.

 

They grasp at shadows, vast and grand,

And miss the beauty, close at hand.

The simple joy, the quiet peace,

The inner worth, that time can't cease.

 

So let the masks, the facades fall,

And see the treasures, one and all.

Embrace the truth, the heart's soft beat,

And find the worth that's truly sweet.

AKSHR

There is nothing so powerful as truth – and often nothing so strange. – Daniel Webster --- AKSHR

 

There is nothing so powerful as truth 

– and often nothing so strange.                   

– Daniel Webster

A truth, a whispered, fragile thing,

A seed of wonder, softly spring.

It blooms in fields of doubt and fear,

A radiant flower, banished near.

 

Its petals, spun of starlight bright,

Reflect the cosmos, pure and light.

It dances on the wind's soft sigh,

A whispered promise, reaching high.

 

Yet, strange it is, this potent grace,

To pierce the veil of time and space.

It clashes with the norms we hold,

A jarring truth, a story told.

 

It strips the masks of gilded lies,

And stares into the darkened skies.

It challenges the status quo,

A revolution, soft and slow.

AKSHR