2025-06-29
Unveiling
Realisation is not a treasure found,
Nor some new sense the wise acquire—
It is not gold beneath the ground,
Nor sudden spark of secret fire.
It is the quiet, patient art
Of peeling back the veils we wear;
A gentle clearing of the heart,
A seeing through the layers there.
No need to chase what’s far or strange,
No need to gather, grasp, or strive—
For nothing, truly, needs to change
Except the masks that we contrive.
The world is here, as it has been,
Beneath the camouflage we spin;
The truth is simple, clear, and keen—
It waits for us to look within.
So let the falsehoods fall away,
The borrowed fears, the borrowed names;
What’s left is light, the open day,
The silent self that always remains.
Realisation is not to gain,
But to remember, to reveal—
To brush aside the dust and stain,
And greet the life that’s always real.
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