My Writings

The Becoming

Artwork: Tea Velizarova

I used to look upon the world with seeking eyes, but now I only seek the truth inside of me. Day by day I peel off the mask of who I was and a warm feeling of fulfillment embraces me. The thickening. The feeling of slow becoming. The path. I let it consume me for a time, because I know that it is transient. Discord and chaos gather to rip me apart – and they will – but for now I know who I am – here and now – and I am pleased.

I see a new beginning. I am becoming who I was always meant to be. The things that I busied myself with yesterday are gone. The colors and sounds of life as it was not so long ago – gone. All gone.

Only I remain. Of course, what I strive for melts into the now, the fruit that I stretched my hand to grasp slowly loses its sweetness. As my dreams assume a material form, my childish self crystallizes as if covered by a toxic layer, and it secretes joy no longer. Then I turn my gaze to the new, to the unexplored, the unfelt. And in my eyes it becomes the most beautiful, the most desirable. As wanted as water by a dry throat.

It floods me. It flows through my being until it dries up. The cruelty of the “body” thrown to the ground, scratching the dry, abandoned soil, seeking the remotest sign of moisture – it is all too familiar. The inability to attain what one desires, the failure of the ego, the stripping of power from the drunken mind – I have seen those demons. And they have danced mockingly in my mind.

I am learning to live. I wonder what I have been doing all those years. Have I been drowned in a dream? An illusion shattered – shed away in convulsion – it has left behind a mind confused, but true.

Weak today. Strong tomorrow.

On the path of becoming.

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