My Writings

The Water Monkey

Now that I am whole, do you understand me? Now, is it all clearer – the water of my lake? Take a rock, skip it across the surface of my world. You cannot hurt me. Now, there is only a calm goodbye, there is only forgiveness, there is only understanding, only quiet. Do my words ring more human, more humane, more True? Do you feel them in the heart of your Heart?

Yes, I still speak in riddles. Yes, I still weave my words into webs instead of lines. Yes, my mind does not fly like an arrow, predictable. Instead it flows with ease unimaginable, imitating, mimicking – the play of nature. But it is not always so.

Sometimes, I become human. Sometimes, I have a heart. And sometimes, I even have a soul. You can finally talk to me, it is easy to see me as someone familiar, warm. You might even catch a glimpse of who I would have been, if things did not turn out as they did. You might stumble upon the ruins of an abandoned life – the one that I pursued most hotly, but when I reached its crumbling gates, I lost all desire to rebuild it.

You see, I would have been the Water Monkey. I would have been wild and untamed, not a single shard of thought in my mind, I would feel no need to write or in any way suffer, for the sake of art. And yet, I would feel the cosmic cold and the warmth of the human heart. Free from all the burden of life, there would be nothing to talk about. Only perhaps the issues of the day – fleeting and meaningless. And yet, I would think deeply about my place in the world, and quickly let go of such thoughts.

In that moment,

had such perfect purity been achieved,

I would have ceased to exist.


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