The carnival is loud.
The voices rise in competition,
each one pulling for the crowd’s attention,
each one demanding to be seen,
to be known,
to be applauded.

But none of it lasts.

The bright lights will flicker,
the tents will come down,
the applause will fade.
And the ones who built their names
on the roar of the crowd
will be left alone with their silence.

You feel this, don’t you?

The moment after the rush,
when the thrill of being seen
is not enough to keep you full.
The moments between performances,
when you are left with yourself.
You have felt it.
And because you have felt it,
you cannot unfeel it.

That is the nature of truth.

It does not beg.
It does not force.
It simply remains,
waiting for you to turn toward it.

But not all will turn.

Some will sell the last of themselves
to the carnival,
to the barker’s voice,
to the fleeting thrill of attention.
Some will press their hands over their ears
until they no longer hear the call at all.
Some will attempt to crucify what unsettles them,
to keep the show running.

And yet, truth stands.

It does not chase.
It does not barter.
It does not make itself smaller
to be more easily held.

It remains,
whether you turn today,
or tomorrow,
or never at all.

For life does not demand.
It does not entertain.
It does not offer a show.

It simply waits.

And in time,
the waiting will be yours
to bear