English poem–Truth is blissful

I stroll with my horse on a snowy road that wades along the deserted buildings of an old city where history stands as a tour-guide to the events happened in the past.

The snow covers everything—there is no edge that I can see. Everything looks white.

My water bottle is tucked near the saddle and is half-empty. My horse is breathing heavily and walks with great effort.

A pair of old eyes, withered in a long wait, meets mine. I am startled to find someone. The life makes its presence felt among the ruins that exist to tell unverifiable tales.

The old man is thirsty.

I offer my half-empty bottle as my horse whiffs strongly in acknowledgement.

The old man stretches his trembling hands and grasps the bottle in a firm grip. He drinks every drop that the container has and cherishes it. A broken smile blossoms on his face—it is spotless but shaven. I wonder how he could afford it at such a place.

“Why you linger here, son,” his eyes seem to pop this question.

“I am in the search of truth,” I murmur hiding my quest from an unknown person at an un-trampled road.

“Why go far?”

“The truth lies within. It is you. Whatever you see outside is the veil that covers it.”

“But still, what do I do when I see it,” I start to get interested in the conversation.

“What I did when you gave me water? I felt satisfied, and so you do with truth. You feel bliss.” The old man puts it simply and lays his hand on my shoulder and moves away. His stick freshly cut from a tree, and his cloak touching the ground covered his feet.

Is that the epiphany? –The moment when all emotions melt down, and a strange but strong current wells within. It is powerful and irresistibly overwhelming for a dream.

With a sudden jump, I wake up. The sun rises and peeps through my window.

Yes, when the truth shines within, it is blissful.

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