The Beauty of Truth

Candid.

It is a word

With two meanings.

 

One who is frank,

Truthful.

This is the only thing,

When asked,

That describes who I am;

How my mind works.

 

How can you

Sit back and watch

As others act.

You want to say something;

It is written on your face.

Yet, you are waiting.

For what?

 

Is it for someone

To care about what you say?

You endure pain

Because you won’t speak;

You refuse to.

 

My mind

Can’t wrap itself around this.

And so, to compensate,

I am constantly asking,

Urging.

Say what you want;

Don’t care, just say it.

 

This is no different

Than the second meaning

To the word:

A picture.

 

Not simply a picture,

But a picture of truth.

Unaware of its being taken,

This shot shows the world

In a clear light.

No filter, no adjustments,

Only what is real.

 

What is the point

Of having it any other way?

I will never understand.

 

Beauty

In this world

Cannot be tampered with.

 

It is only

What it is.

Without any effects,

No posing,

No awareness of its’ beauty.

 

That, in itself,

Gives anything it’s beauty.

Humble,

Not knowing,

Not caring,

Living how it would live.

That is what makes it

Beautiful.

 

Seeing life

As this beauty,

Without alterations

Is what causes me to

Have to be candid.

 

I speak what I see

And I see what I speak.

 

You cannot be confused

Without understanding

And you won’t know

Until you know.

 

Life is not something

To be understood.

It is only

When you accept that you

Will never comprehend

That you begin to see

The truth

And the beauty.

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