My Writings

The Broken Glass Sculpture

You said, the one Truth, is to Love. And yet, I so often forget. The core of what is Undeniable, shines whole and undisturbed, while I land like a bird on one of its any branches – now – and then – another, and I sing. That is the truth, I have seen it, but I have also seen its other face. I have walked on yet another path.

You said, there are infinite ways to Truth, but I cannot count. What I know is what I know, and you cannot convince me otherwise. See, I stare at you coldly, feel, I have become distant, alone, and it has given me Wisdom.

You remember me as I was before – younger, full of life, I was able to hold some of it in my hands and bring it back alive to show it to you, now that ignorantly joyous life has leaked out like water from my broken glass sculpture of a being. And yet, I am able to hold more of it, to bring it to our world, and show you.

It is as if I have woken from a dream. It is as if I have finally breathed in the peaceful, slow consciousness of Manhood. My hands have soaked in the sun, strong and good – they now rest on my knees. Having sat down near the road, I see the horizon from which I sprung and I turn my head to the future – unrecognizable. I have come far, but I am yet unborn, and I haven’t seen even the beginning of the Beginning.

I have told you that before, haven’t I? And you believed it, didn’t you? But here I still am, and I say it again. One day I will die, but on my deathbed I will still proclaim that that is only the Beginning. Death is only an exercise that I will perform. Death is something that I will have to do.

And I strive to do it properly.

That will shape what happens next.


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