...truth is beauty.

calm
and
glassy
in my clever deception
i wait
invisible beads of undivisible anticipation huddle above my hairline
as hesitant to move as i am
they wait
we wait
to strike?
to be strikened!!?!(i hope that's a word-i tend to show my illiterateness sometimes...)
nah
to find truth
a hunt i reluctantly accept
due to the ugliness of it
but
what i guess i failed to realize
truth's freedom
it's beauty
it's solace
and that
from it's solace arises a beautiful freedom
easily obtained?
nah...hardly.
but there's something divine in the fight
and real in the battle
and salty in your sweat
...so much so that the quest for truth is honest and honorable in itself.

(DAMN THIS IS NOT WHERE I WANTED THIS ONE TO GO BUT I DRIFT SO WHAT...and where the hell did i get the word "quest" from???)