My Writings

The Counting of the Blessings

I heard the cry from the distant world and it tasted like the cry of my people. The ones that are so near and dear to me and of which there are so few left. Beyond the veil – where love is plenty, rich with memory, and every gust of wind carries my name. A whispering tune – abundant with all that is good.

First there was freedom. And the fear that it brought – a fear of light and life. A fear of a beating heart, the fear of the lungs full of air. The fear of my power to crash against the rocks of the world and, flowing into the valley, drowning it all in myself. For that reason I must always be suppressed.

Then dignity burst into flame. And the evil eyes that it brought staring at me on my golden throne.

Then victory was achieved. After the dream of my heroic death there came a birth far stronger. And I desired to stay immovable as a rock, to see it through the end.

Then I tasted love. Its mysterious scent having eluded me for so long. I had mistaken it with infatuation.

Then knowledge sprang. And the shifting view of where my place was in the mosaic.

Then I learned strength, proving to myself that anything can be acquired through knowledge.

At last there was the cool, calm, tranquil unity. All the boons that sprang from the open mouth of my home, hanging like beads on a thread, around my neck. I stare at the horizon, knowing that my time has arrived.

Having mastered time – a gift from Mother,

I emerge like a fish from the water

to catch that moment

and drag it into my depths.

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