Golden Light of Truth

A Soul-led Creative Poem

There is a moment,
a hairline crack in time,
just wide enough to let in a trickle of golden light.

I feel it now,
the surge,
the spin,
panic clawing up my throat,
anger dressed as rigidity,
desperation begging to be heard.

I used to go with it.
Ride the wildfire,
speak from the burn.
But now, I catch myself,
now I pause.

I see her,
the version of me who lunges,
defends,
needs to fix it now,
make it make sense.

But something quiet rises.
Not a voice, a knowing.
“Is this real?”
“Is this true?”

The heat says yes.
And the past screams with certainty.
But my soul?
She shakes her head, soft and slow.
She knows this isn’t mine.
Not really.
Not anymore.

So I breathe,
deep into the belly,
where truth waits,
patient and unafraid.

I release the tension,
shatter the noise.
And choose the tenderness that was always there,
humming underneath.

It doesn’t need fixing.
It needs witnessing.
It doesn’t need control.
It needs compassion.

I return, not to the story, but to myself.
Not to reaction, but to rhythm.

Here, in this quiet space,
I remember,
I am the sky,
not the storm.

And what external forces trigger me,
are not real battles,
they do not define me
and no longer own me.

I can simply shine a light on them,
and let them go.

The sentiment behind this poem "Light of Truth" emerges from the deeply human experience of recognising when we’ve been hijacked by our old default behaviours. For me, this shows up as panic and desperation resulting in anger, confrontation. I know this is not everyone's default. Some people shut down and hide, others cry with overwhelm, some of us still struggle to separate ourselves from the voices and emotions of others.

And this is the stress response, right? We’re either in fight, flight or freeze mode. These are often survival strategies rooted in past wounding, triggered by something or someone external to us, outside of our control.

In this poem, that moment of reckoning is tender and pivotal, when we catch ourselves and ask, “Is this real? Is this true?” The answer, more often than not, is NO. It’s not our present wisdom speaking, but the echo of old stories.

This piece honours the sacred pause, that breath of awareness where a quiet inner knowing rises above the noise. It is a return to discernment, to soul-truth, to the part of us that can observe without becoming fused with old emotions. Instead of acting from urgency, we begin to choose presence. We soften. We witness. And in that, we remember our power, that we are not the storm of our reactions, but the vast sky that holds it all with compassion.

Invitation to reflect:
Can you recall a moment where you felt yourself swept away by a strong emotion, but then paused, just long enough to question it?

What old story or fear was playing out in that moment? And what would it look like to return, gently, to the part of you that already knows the truth beneath the trigger?

Let this be your reminder that your presence is powerful. Your awareness is enough. And even one conscious breath can begin the shift back to your truth.

You can listen to the spoken version of this poem here

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