Chapter 1 · The Call to See

The Gift of Truth

Cristina do Valle Mirrors of the Infinite

Not the weather of thought, nor the trembling of mind, Truth is the sky that the storms cannot bind. Not belief with its shadows, nor passion’s disguise, But the lamp that keeps burning when illusion dies. To speak it is not to contend or persuade, But to breathe what was given before words were made. It rises like light through a half-clouded pane, Softly insistent, untouched by disdain. If ears bend its music, the song is not gone, It circles the silence and waits to be drawn. Like a river it wanders but finds the same sea, Its purpose unaltered, its current set free. Withholding is dimming the flame in your hand, A lantern half-buried beneath shifting sand. Why fear the reflection when mirrors are true? What is withheld from the world is withheld from you. So speak, not to triumph, not seeking reply, But to honor the light that no shadow can try. Truth is love in its garments of infinite hues, The more it is spoken, the more it renews.

Reflection

This poem arrived like a lantern in my hands. It felt less written than remembered, as though the words had always existed and were simply waiting for me to brush away the sand. I realized while writing that I had often confused truth with debate, with the need to defend or convince. But truth, in its purest form, does not need protection. It is not sharpened steel, but steady flame.

The distortion revealed itself in my tendency to withhold. I have hidden my truths—sometimes out of fear of judgment, sometimes out of a mistaken sense of humility, sometimes because I doubted they were worthy of light. But the withholding itself dimmed me, as if the flame I tried to cover grew faint under its own lack of breath. The lesson was simple and unyielding: what I bury in silence, I also bury within myself.

As I allowed this poem to pour through, I felt truth as something both fragile and indestructible—fragile because it can be ignored, indestructible because it never ceases to be. Even when twisted or denied, it circles back, patiently awaiting the moment we can recognize it again.

The dissolution came when I realized that speaking truth is not an act of aggression, nor is it for validation. It is an act of devotion. To speak it is to align with the eternal, to give voice to love wearing its infinite hues. It is not about winning. It is about honoring. And in honoring, truth renews us all.

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