Finding My Truth

Elusive truth,

not ready to be faced,

wears me down

as the sea works on a beach,

sending in waves

probing, penetrating,

lapping at my feet.

At times gentle,

almost persuasive

shifting sands, nudging,

whispering its message:

"slow down a moment,

listen, there is something here."

But left unheard

and unheeded,

white, rounded

storm clouds build

up, up, up on the

distant horizon.

Eventually

unleashing fury

so old, so powerful

angry dark gray waves

hurtling forth, raw

need to be heard.

Commandeering

every grain of sand,

gutting every

seemingly solid thing.

Stripping away beliefs,

those propped up

perspectives

carefully constructed

when I was young,

now rubble moving

back and forth

with the tides.

Epic forces

exposing barren

terrains, layered

histories long covered.

Now raw, but solid

(as solid as truth can be)

begging for fresh eyes,

a fresh start.

A new perspective.