IV:The Rebirth Of Life

IV

We recreate ourselves every day. We also lose a sense of ourselves every day. Aren’t we constantly asking ourselves, “Who am I?”God knows, “I am what I am.” Remember the hype about “The Secret”? Well, the real secret is that there is no secret. There is no big answer to life. If there were maybe it would be love and peace, maybe the hippy generation had it right. I really don’t know where I’m going with this, or what my point is… perhaps, that’s just it. Why live our lives continuously questioning it and continuously searching for answers, when we know shit happens when it happens and it doesn’t happen when we want it most to happen. If we could will our lives into success and grandiosity, we’d all be rich and famous, we’d all be happy, we’d all have an enlightened sense of spirituality, and maybe we’d even have world peace. Perhaps we would live in a functioning Utopian society.

Warrior

(Photo by CYER, 1997)

IV: THE RE-BIRTH OF LIFE

There was nothing unique or “original” about me. I had been spoon fed from the moment I decided to speak. From the moment I thought I had something relevant to say. Gullible and transparent. Living like a puppet, behind a glass cage, with no curtains drawn. It was you that fed me with words, but it was me that battled with my own ego.

Those times you made me travel between cities, countries, and continents, were all detours of distance. The people and places of the world were merely seconds away from each other, not hours or days. You made me a fool because I never wanted to see the world. The first time I boarded a plane, I thought we were at a standstill during mealtime; motionless and floating in the sky, so that even the navigators could eat and nap at allotted times. It was exactly that which gave the illusion to space and time. The world may still be round, or flat, but the truth was that the world was just one. One place, with no name and no segregation and no separation. Simply united.

I did not know whether to love you for all the answers. Accepting that perhaps my crucifixion was coming (God returned) Were you showing me there was such a thing as abundant love? No war? Except for the war on me? Was I the war on terror? What I might’ve thought could be abuse, but wasn’t… was I going to lash out in the future? Did you believe I would steal the dreams of innocent children and try to create my own from them? Why was I not that innocent child corrupted by what the world had to say? Were you showing me that I would be saved from cruel ways, or that I would be too evil to be resurrected? Just a black hole in a well, dark enough to be drowning deeper into its own depths. I never learned how to swim but when I tried, I always ended up going against the flow.

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