Satya = Truth

It comes to me as a wry smile

and a glimmer of recognition.

A bubble in the mud

A watery epiphany that emerges from steamy soap suds.

In the language of light of an orange dusk, satiated.

In the sunbeams that dance in my hands.

It comes to me in the orchestra of silence

Of a nocturnal overture

When the blood pulsating in my veins

Translates to the ink on the page

And I am able to paint my discords

And appreciate the asymmetry

This is the only truth I know.

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