truth doesn’t make a noise

can we sit down and write about a larger meaning
or do we just simply write
and by accident stumble upon it
our skin cells and blood
dead messengers
like stars
that seep inside the fiber
of our modern skin
ruled and lined for precision
and error
glorious error
that guides us past the intellect
past our own fractured beliefs
towards something lesser
and greater
than truth

the meaning of truth
the words that can’t fit inside the lines
but hide in the margins
waiting to be found
by those who know where to look
or by those
who like us
simply stumble upon it

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