The naked truth
It wears no clothes,
Turns wild what is tamed.

It follows you
Where’re  you go
It calls you out by name.

And some people fear
The sight of it
And some have felt ashamed

Of what, revealed,
Is brought to light by it,
But it shines through all the same.

For what most people think is true
Is wishful thinking
In disguise,

A wanting-to-be-true,
That aches, that breaks, and cannot heal
An ever-present compromise.

You grasp at your wish
With outstretched hands,
Until you realize:

It’s not the sunrise
Or the dream
That’s keeping you alive.

And the moment you let go
Of what was never so,
It’s then you will be free.

You ask me, child,
How do I know?
It’s happening to me.