veritas

Real truth - is there a fake? - plays behind the brightness of a smile. It shimmers in gold, perfect and whole. It has lasted through the years, unscathed, battering through the dark. It sits inside and out beyond the fence. It's in the passing of a word, but mostly in a laugh: loud, clear, and sparkling. Glittering upon my ears, it makes me smile to hear it. It rarely comes when you call - perhaps because we're always calling the wrong way. It might disguise itself behind a muffle, but we hear it nonetheless. It's hard to keep inside when it wants so badly to come out and play. It's in the bold, barefoot run across the forbidden grass and the breath of air sucked in after. It's in the whisper of a secret shared behind tiny, cupped hands and the giggling gasps that follow. It's in the pure fantasy of a tree house adventure, sprinting through the gnarled brown of bark and wild forest overgrowth and the high shriek of joy piercing the sunglow. It's in the outburst of happiness, let loose in the wind, rushing down the freeway, giving way to the brightest laugh, widest smile, truest feeling of utmost light. How many times do we get a glimpse? We have forever to find it, sitting there in plain view, waiting for us to open.

A truest truth makes sense to me, you, her, and them. In cow french, 2057, yesterday, above, and in the dark. It passes from one to the other, unbridled, free. It's in the stars and the sun and the pebble and the ocean. You touch your shore and I'll touch mine. Can you feel it? It moves, slowly crawling into our crevices, over our toes, making us shiver. The tide pushes forward, pulling us nearer. We sway, staring into the expanses of forever. Take a second to blink, and dive in.