My Writings

The Striving: Part II

Artwork: Bogdan Sassu

In a moment of realization, my consciousness having cracked its fragile shell, having expanded into the Limitless, I trembled. I shook in the face of Grandeur, I saw life propagating itself. I felt it deeply, and truly – flowers and vines, and moss – fighting with thorn, and poison, and pollen. In spite of the Cold, in spite of the Unforgiving.

An innate force to grow, to drag a body of flesh and bone through a path less traveled. Muscles failing, pressure thickening behind the eyes – unseeing, and warm breath lost in the infinite cold of the Universe. Why do I so often forget – as a being blessed with self-awareness – the furnace in my throat? Why do we all crawl back into our nests – warm with a mother’s promise – and indulge in sweet Nothings?

Brothers and sisters, don’t you feel compelled to choke on your own strife with the world, to wear the wings and a crown of feathers, and give the world a good fight? To the bitter end. And beyond.

I hurt, but there is no looking behind the shoulder. I must have the path always in my sight.

Otherwise it will destroy me.

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