The Burden and Freedom of Truth: A Poem on Its Psychology
The Burden and Freedom of Truth: A Poem on Its Psychology
In the depths where thoughts converge,
Where conscience brews a heavy urge,
Lies the struggle, raw and bare,
Between the truth, and what we dare.
A flicker in the mind takes form,
Should truth rise up, or stay the norm?
The heart beats fast, the pulse runs thin,
As truth’s own weight resides within.
What is this truth, but fragile flame,
That burns through lies, and shame, and blame?
Yet carries with it fear and loss,
For truth, once said, can have its cost.
It shakes the ground beneath our feet,
And pulls us from deceit’s retreat.
But those who wield it, sharp and bright,
Must face the world, and face the light.
There’s power in a truthful word,
But fear, as well, comes undeterred.
For truth is raw, it’s often cruel,
It doesn’t bend to heart or rule.
The psychology that lies beneath,
The truth-teller feels every sheath,
Of doubt and risk, that wraps around,
The words that can set souls unbound.
The mind, it hesitates to speak,
For truth can leave relationships weak.
It cuts through smiles, it cuts through lies,
It often shatters well-worn ties.
To tell the truth is to defy,
The comforts of a sweeter lie.
Yet in its telling, there’s relief,
A cleansing of the mind’s own grief.
For when we say what must be said,
We lift the veil, we clear the dread.
Though silence keeps the peace intact,
It weighs upon the soul with tact.
The psychology of truth’s demand,
Is held in courage’s shaking hand.
For those who speak it, feel the cost,
Of friends betrayed, and trust soon lost.
But deeper still, beneath that weight,
Lies freedom in a truth so great.
The burden lifts, the chains break free,
And honesty becomes the key.
Though truth can sting, though truth can burn,
It opens doors where souls return.
For lies are webs that trap us deep,
While truth allows the heart to sleep.
The brain recoils, afraid of pain,
Of what the truth may never gain.
It wonders if the risk is wise,
To break the veil, to sever ties.
Yet something in the soul insists,
That truth is where true honor fits.
It stirs within the quiet mind,
And pushes forward, slow but kind.
There’s empathy in truth, you see,
It offers clarity and plea.
For in the darkest, deepest space,
It’s truth that gives our soul its grace.
It asks for trust, it asks for care,
It holds our fragile hearts laid bare.
The psychology of truth, untold,
Is rich, complex, and firm, yet bold.
To say the truth is to embrace,
The consequences we must face.
The guilt, the shame, the sudden fear,
Of what may come, of who will hear.
But those who speak it find release,
For truth, in time, becomes their peace.
It builds a path, it lights the way,
It frees the night, it lifts the day.
So let us ponder, let us feel,
The truth within us, raw and real.
Though lies may comfort, lies may shield,
It’s truth alone that truly heals.
The psychology that guides our speech,
Is always just beyond our reach.
But when we grasp it, when we dare,
We find a love, beyond compare.
For truth, though heavy in its toll,
Is what will finally make us whole.
It carries strength, it carries light,
It stands tall in the darkest night.
Though often feared, and hard to say,
The truth will always find its way.
And in its wake, we will arise,
With clearer hearts and clearer eyes.
