Truth is

There was once a man who seemed to have everything a heart could desire. His days were filled with the laughter of a loving family, the steady comfort of a devoted wife, and the pride of a craft that had earned him great respect. His home was warm, his table always full, and his name spoken kindly wherever he went.

Yet, a quiet ache stirred within him.

“I am grateful for all that I have,” he told his wife one evening, “but I am not at peace. I want to know if there is more, or is that all? I want to know Truth.”

His wife, wise in her own way, simply smiled and replied, “Then you must go and seek her.”

And so, with little more than determination and a walking stick, the man set out.

He wandered far from his home—over rolling green hills and down into shadowed valleys. He asked after Truth in bustling towns and silent villages, among fishers along the coast and hermits in the woods. He searched through misted forests and across meadows spangled with wildflowers, under the scorching sun and the silver moon, as the seasons turned like pages in a book.

Days became weeks, and weeks turned to months. Yet still, he searched.

Then one day, atop a lonely, wind-scoured mountain, he came upon a narrow cave hidden behind a tumble of stones. He stepped forward, peered into the gloom—and recoiled.

Inside, hunched in the darkness, was a withered old woman. She was, to his eyes, terrible to behold. Her body stooped and wiry, a single yellowed tooth peeking from her withered lips. Her hair hung in greasy, matted strands down her back, and her skin was drawn tight over sharp bones, brown and cracked like dry parchment. 

His first instinct was to turn away and continue his search.

But then, from the shadows, she lifted one hand—gnarled and trembling—and beckoned him closer.
Her eyes, though clouded, shimmered with something deep, strange and knowing.

The air around her seemed to shimmer faintly, as though the cave itself held its breath in her presence.

Her voice, to his astonishment, was clear and lyrical—gentle as rain on dry ground, strong as a bell rung in still air. It was beautiful beyond words, and in that moment, his heart knew what his eyes had missed.

He had found Truth.

He entered the cave and sat beside her.

He stayed with her through summer heat and winter snow, for a year and a day. He listened and learned, asked and pondered. She taught him things no book could hold—things that shone and cut and healed all at once.

At last, the day came when he felt ready to return home. Standing at the cave’s mouth, he turned to her with a bow.

“My lady Truth,” he said, “you have given me more than I could ever repay. Before I leave, I wish to offer something in return. Is there anything you desire?”

Truth tilted her head and thought for a long, quiet moment. Then, slowly, she raised one crooked finger.

“When you speak of me,” she said, her voice like wind in ancient trees,
“tell them I am young… and beautiful.”