My dreams are steeped in prophetic doom. I rise from them, doused in pensive lucidity, to beach the ghost shores of shame and nameless indignation, having long ago learned to fear the inevitability of others' wrathful reciprocity. I must change or perish. My armour has become too conspicuous, too heavy to bear. We are the slow death of ourselves, forgetting all too easily and eagerly how to garner our Courage instead from the tender, reverent hands of Virtue and our true Valiance from Heart-Tenderness. Have I the strength to be kind in a world so quick to turn vicious and cruel at the slightest gesture of self-defense? For when everyone bears Sword & Shield, the defiant act of self-preservation becomes a death-wish, the Stoicism of only Cowards & Fools. It seems no longer to be, that the only way to truly survive is by turning the other cheek.
What have I become? Where has my faith in the saving graces of Discretion & Humility gone? To forget the self used to be the basic tenet of saving the self, yet now seems the stuff of Delusion & Tomfoolery, creating within the human will, an even more toxic core than ever before. In the Herculean grip of Loss, Alienation, Disillusionment & Loneliness have I still the will to kill this sickly beast? Have I still the strength to stand apart, with purity of heart? Just how far have I slipped? Have I slipped enough that this devil-mind could never again bid adieu to irreconcilable Rage & Disgust, however righteously spawned they might be? Will I settle for the cathartic yet disastrous camaraderie of Fear & Loathing, only to return, a prodigal orphan to the Hell I have bore, into the arms of my true blood-father, Lucifer. Or shall I return to the merciful arms of my soul-father, God and give into sweet simplicity, to be loved merely as I am in His eyes, a humble newborn babe?
I must die to all of this. Oh, Heavenly Father, if You can bear any more kin, I wish, to be born again.
*
I feel Time, even at this tender age of youth to be on my side yet a thorn in my side. I feel each minute as if it were an hour, each second, an eternity. And as I recount all of the years I have thus lived and reach a mere sum of 21, I feel within my soul, a cry of deep Despair. I feel I have already lived far too long, and have come to know both too much and too little. When will I be granted relief? Father Time, as far as I'm concerned does not know best and has grown quite exploitive and abusive to this Temporal Child, shattering his hourglass against my world weary cheek letting it be known just who's in charge and just how quickly Time might be running out. He then positions a scythe down low to let me know just how many more fields of time-grain I have through which to sift before I am released unto a much more tolerable Guardian & Eternity. I realize that I have a limited time here upon these earthly plains, yet my threshold of bearing this agony seems almost breached. For I gain and yet all at once, lose all concept of Time when I remain stuck and sinking fast, within the muck and mire of the Past.
*
I feel Time, even at this tender age of youth to be on my side yet a thorn in my side. I feel each minute as if it were an hour, each second, an eternity. And as I recount all of the years I have thus lived and reach a mere sum of 21, I feel within my soul, a cry of deep Despair. I feel I have already lived far too long, and have come to know both too much and too little. When will I be granted relief? Father Time, as far as I'm concerned does not know best and has grown quite exploitive and abusive to this Temporal Child, shattering his hourglass against my world weary cheek letting it be known just who's in charge and just how quickly Time might be running out. He then positions a scythe down low to let me know just how many more fields of time-grain I have through which to sift before I am released unto a much more tolerable Guardian & Eternity. I realize that I have a limited time here upon these earthly plains, yet my threshold of bearing this agony seems almost breached. For I gain and yet all at once, lose all concept of Time when I remain stuck and sinking fast, within the muck and mire of the Past.
