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
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