Gentle Touches of Truth

They arrive like dawn on a quiet morning, not with thunder, but with a sigh of light. A hand resting on your shoulder, a glance that says more than words dare to. They do not shout to be heard—they breathe, and you listen.

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Gentle touches of truth are patient. They wait for the heart to unclench, for the mind to set down its defences. They seep into the cracks where lies once lived, and grow roots in the soil of understanding. Even silence feels like an answer.

They are not always comfortable. Sometimes they burn softly, like the warmth after frostbite—pain before peace. They pull back the curtain, letting in the light you thought you feared, only to find it was love all along.

Gentle touches of truth stay. Long after voices fade and footsteps vanish, they rest in the corners of your being. They change the way you see the road ahead, the way you hold another’s hand, and the way you forgive yourself.

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We Win Together
One Mission
One Goal
See you at the top

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Original post by @dobartim
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