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.

Related posts

My Writings

The Innkeeper

My eyes, at the foot of the great mountain, shot an arrow into the heights where its peaks disappear into fine mist. And longed to cli...

My Writings

Ice

To live embraced by warmth is wealth. I am rich. I have hot water for a bath. But its luxury feels distant and unfamiliar, still. I am...