Thought: a small pit, a tiny crack in the thick walls of ignorance.
True: the goddes profaned by the blind fervour of her devotees. 
Love: this breath, this palpitation, this creak of my anxious voice. Love: this truth that liberates me to submits me its redeeming power. Love: this infinite present, this emptiness made plenitude. Love, for you, paradox of life makes sense.