If you choose to think,
then seek the truth,
not like a scholar seeking answers,
but like a flame seeking air.
For without it,
you wander into caverns
where light forgets the way,
a labyrinth of shadows
blend from doubt,
where self-sabotage chants
like a hymn in the blood,
and hopelessness
settles like dust on forgotten altars.
You grow accustomed to the dark.
You stop seeing the cracks
in the mirror of your mind.
Reality slips through your fingers,
not because it vanished,
because you ceased to feel it,
numb, not from pain,
but from the slow erosion of attention.
Yet if you can hold innocence,
not ignorance, but clarity unclouded,
then all is revealed.
Not through force,
and enforcing.
Knowing rises like dawn,
not announced, but arrived,
a quiet recognition
in the hush before thought.
You see what comes
not by stretching forward,
but by standing still
to witness reflection.
You prepare,
not to control the storm,
but to meet it
as an old friend.
Your consciousness,
this fragile, flickering spark,
is not merely mind.
It is soul.
It is the echo of the first breath.
It is the universe
awake in you,
and gazing back at itself.
So journey on,
wise one,
the living vessel of wisdom.
And always remember
the golden rule:
Power does not lie
in ruling the earth,
but in remembering
the place within
where you first chose to see.
For you may bend the world,
but you will forever dwell
in the inner kingdom
you once called home.