All I know is that you know the truth, whether or not
You know it now: it is in you, as the cells compose your body.
When you realise you will laugh.
Everything in this life has been played as a recognition.
Talismans to remind us; to jolt; to wake us.
Truth is like a Priest’s hole in one on a Sunday: who can you tell who wasn’t there?
When you’re there, you’ll know exactly. Because you’ve always been there.
It’s returning to a place that is so familiar; you’ll recognise the voices.
The trick is whether we’ll wake.
01.22
20.5.05
2 comments:
it's strange that you wrote this poem only one day before i felt the touch of the Truth. meanings change, illusions change in time. Truth is usually in disguise as if trying to make it harder to find it so that we'll understand or appreciate better when/if we succeed. thanks for reminding the feeling.
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