by Rembrandt
Perhaps truth is there somewhere suspended
waiting for us to discover or stumble into it…. like Love. And if we find it do we not imagine we could accept and digest and live it?
Sometimes I think that truth is a temporary platform
Sometimes I think that truth is a temporary platform
we sleep and rest on
only to be abruptly wakened
only to be abruptly wakened
or shocked into discovering a new one.
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