When he was born he was given a light Torch. He grabbed it, to see in the darkness, his face. He had a beautiful face, and a grandiose soul, and a viviv voice, and a huge imagination. He was a genius. His beauty challenged the feelings of inferiority of his mother; a great woman who had a broken soul. She was the one, who gave him the Torch, and showed him what she could not accept of herself reflected on his mirror. He cried, and fought against that lie. He never gave up. Inside he knew. He was perfect. So he left; his mother, and the Distorted Torch. He got his own, to Shine the Light to the Unseen. And he sat. And he cried; of self doubt, of fear, of desperation. But he always kept the Torch alive, shining toward the unseen. For ever and ever. And ever. Until he saw. And saw. And saw. He went back to her grave. And pointed that Torch towards her. – Have you seen your beauty before it was too late? He asked. He knew she did. Since ...
Spiritual Freedom | Authenticity | Radical Honesty