Truth is not won by drawing a line in the sand,
It etches in the heart what the mind can’t withstand.
Its forged in a brow all too familiar with pain,
Yet too filled with resolve to hold onto disdain.
It’s not built up in columns nor a heavy façade,
It follows along the cracks of each meandering LeMaurade.
It bleeds through the fibers of the ego’s tattered remains,
‘Til all is bleached unrecognizable but the humility stains.
It crumbles the vestige of the smallness of man,
Reunites the omega with the alpha; where the individual began.