My Writings

The Rascal

I know the pain of not knowing you, my one true horror. You took me to the earliest days that I remember, crisp and cold. That time I consumed in deep breaths, my steps were short and uncertain, my cognition was drowned in childish understanding, but my ugly face showed itself underneath, nonetheless.

All I know is that my soul belongs neither here, nor there, but only with you. It hasn’t even been 27 years since I rose from the void of dreamless sleep, but time breathes down my neck harder and heavier each day. As if that false, disgusting universe is a beggar and I am his bastard son. All I know is that I am hungry, and naked, exposed to the elements. Even though my stomach is rarely empty, my deluded mind rarely bored, even though you shelter me and care for me, nothing can shake away the need for your presence, and my ascension from this place. That is where souls come to suffer, drunk, and stupid, and shout insults at the dead body that is their desire to rule and hurt the universe, to leave their bloody mark on the rest of us, only to find that they have themselves been branded for torture.

I know that I have always, always been here, as deluded as yesterday, as far away from tomorrow as I am now, and yet I am only passing by. In passing I wish to warm the faces of others with my hands, to hold them, and to let them know that at the end of it all, my Master awaits.

My Master is here, I wish to tell them, just behind the Veil. Do you feel His all-permeating presence? No? Well, I didn’t either, nor do I deserve it now. But here He is nonetheless, and he has granted me eyes to see. I will not allow you tears of grief, only tears of joy, born out of that final realization. That you are near the Source, and soon you will drink from His Hands.

I cannot tell you to remain unshaken, as His presence breaks us, we shiver, we quiver, and His arrival is preceded by countless blessings, undeserved, piercing us – the undeserving, seemingly out of nowhere. In that instant one feels truly ashamed. I have hurt others, I tell myself – and willingly so. I have forgotten what true love is, I have become a hardened husk – out of necessity, or cowardice. I have worshiped and respected no one else butt myself in my mortal body. And never did I truly look at myself in the mirror, or anyone else in the eye, truly, to see the vanity of it all. That truth used to hurt, but its pain now pales in comparison to living through yet another day like this.

Oh no, the time has come to shed yet another skin. My mind has become a graveyard of delusion. Slowly I abandon one false body after another. With my thoughts purified like alcohol, I am only drunk with His presence.

I write now, my consciousness – strangely awoken, shining in the darkness of life, I write knowing that I will surely forget.

I only ask to retain that spark.

A little while longer.

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