That which is truth cuts to the core.
It's blade splitting soul and sinew. Parsing blood and bone. Rending skin from soul.
A single true name spoken tears the veil between the temporal and ethereal, and just for a fleeting moment before the suturing hand of worldly vanities and deceiving flatteries sews it shut, a blade of light shines forth. It scatters the darkness and skewers the dark demons hiding therein.
With but a whisper of pure truth comes a salve to the inner being—a release from chains and a binding up of the prior warden, who no longer holds the keys to the bonds nor the authority to use them. Stripped of all power with a mere word.
Truth burns with a seething passion to be known. Though it may bring pain unlike any other, the scar it leaves is a shield against infectious sewers of discord and deadly diatribes.
Truth comes with thunder. It descends from warring heavens amid a whirling sea of clouds. The tempest above meeting the one below—a storm from on high to quell the one within.
What world would we inhabit if we were watchers for truth and guardians against its antimony?
Is not the tongue of the serpent himself split two ways, hissing sibilant double-speak leaving a chill in the spine and a worm in the mind?
Yet the tongue of truth is whole and undivided. It secretes no venom or malice, offering the cleansing antidote for all that ails.
In truth, we live in a world of lies.
But in truth, we live fully alive.
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