A letter which is destined to be unread.

Is there another way? Is it possible? How inadequate my words seem to convey all that is hidden. All that I've carried within and alongside me. If I could etch those words, perhaps each tree in this world would bear a book of sorrow, even the universe will not be able to contain its tears upon reading all that is concealed.

If offered a glimpse, would you seize it? Would you dare? Would you desire it? Or does it pose deep confrontation? Undoubtedly too painful. How all these might serve as a reminder of your missteps, shame, and guilt. Yet, I harbor no wish for you to endure such anguish, for it is not my intent to inflict pain upon you.

How do I tell you? How do I convey this? How do I unveil the myriad facets of my being? The layers upon layers of what I am composed of, and all that exists.

Truth, is always bittersweet. A bitter pill to swallow, leaving you gasping as you come to grips with it. As it pierces through your heart, its wound continues to bleed without pause, tears flowing softly down my cheeks, filled with agony and sorrow, with no remedy or solace. Where do I proceed from here? Will I be able to taste the sweetness of the truth?

I have faith that within the journey of truth lies a sweetness awaiting embrace. For I perceive what is, what has been. Embracing it fully, becoming one with it. One breath at a time, one teardrop at a time, one moment of reflection and contemplation at a time. In the sweetness of truth, I welcome myself.

Embracing all that is.