My Writings

The Word of Freedom

To be visited by good, healthy thoughts. Ease in the air, lightness within, friends in a circle, manifesting joy instead of need. To be able to give, an exchange of kind words. To smile warmly and honestly, eyes lighting up, cheerful, like a full row of white teeth, healthy and strong – I want my kinsmen to take good care of themselves. And I care for them, a lot.

I am sick of my sick reflection in the water. A strong wind of turmoil ever brushing against my face, scattering my hair. It carries some heavy smoke and the taste of fermented drinks. Boats that carry me from one state to another, briefly. Then I ask myself where I am – beyond the rushing river, the land seems always brighter, sun-bathed, ever-green.

Now how did I become so outwardly ugly, I ask myself, as if waking from a dream. My face is tired of frowning, the stinging cold, grey thoughts blooming into ugly flowers, rising to the surface like bubbles in a swamp, bursting, accompanied by the buzzing of mosquitoes and a deluge of locusts.

I see the same in my kinsmen – suffering, as if a great crime was perpetrated upon us, a wheel of desecration, spinning in perpetuity, a stave of defilement forbidding us from seeing clearly. I want to see us alive and living. But what can the madman do, except to repeat the same blessings ad infinitum, cast away into a narrow form, like a language consisting of a single word?

Do you not understand? I will repeat my word until you believe it.

My word is Freedom.


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