If I speak the truth, unshaped, unplanned,
no polished words, no staged command,
the crowd may scatter, shadows flee,
but those who stay will truly see.
For masks can charm, but never bind,
they hide the soul, they trick the mind.
Real intimacy demands the cost—
to lose the ones who loved the gloss.
The circle small, the circle true,
remains when all the false are through.
Honesty does not please the crowd,
but draws the few who stand unbowed.
So let the mask be torn away,
the right ones linger, come what may.
In truth, in light, the soul is free—
connection born authentically.