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.