2025-05-02
If you wish to grasp the world’s wide turning,
Its cries and silences, its ceaseless yearning,
You must not look with eyes alone—
But through the heart, where truth is shown.
Facts may clatter, cold and loud,
Headlines march in a jostling crowd,
But deeper still the pulse is found
In quiet grace, where love is crowned.
Shift your gaze from clash and scheme,
Beyond the glare of every screen;
What’s truly real does not demand,
It waits, soft-spoken, hand in hand.
Love is not a passive glance—
It is the lens that gives the chance
To see the pain behind the flame,
The soul beneath the shouted name.
It does not flinch from grief or blame,
But gently asks from whence it came.
And in that asking, something shifts—
The heavy fog, the shadow lifts.
For if we seek to understand,
We must unlearn the harsh command—
And let compassion be the key
To read this world’s complexity.
So bend the mind, release control,
Let love interpret what is whole.
Recognition, when it’s true,
Is love that sees the “me” in “you.”
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