My Writings

The Writing Man

I search for myself – in the deep embrace of this calm, quiet place – and there he is – there he stands up and approaches me – the man that I have become. Nothing about him escapes my vision, as his eyes meet mine, as we shake hands, and I feel his presence – now blooming, expanding, seeking to occupy all the space that is not him, and then quietly receding into himself, as if his aura was breathing, oscillating. Not much unlike the universe.

At times I feel that I am a stranger to that man, that vision, that idol that I dragged throughout my life just to place on a pedestal. And I adore him and throw garlands at his feet. And blame him for all my ills. In truth, much poison has found its way into my veins from pursuing my Ideal, but I already stood before everyone with eyes to see and ears to hear and proudly proclaimed that I, and not someone else, can turn poison into medicine. Water to wine – never, but at the very least – a curse into a blessing.

Now I sit down in the Nothing, uncaring, undisturbed by time and all the world’s demands, and my memories seep through my skin, to fill the void of silence, and teach me what I should have known all along. I look into the past, I see his face, and suddenly all strength leaves me, all determination and direction. As I marvel at my own stupidity and the absurdity of my choices, at the narrow path that I walked on so blindly – I have opened my eyes now, and I tremble at the sight of the precipice that seeks to consume me.

It is a miracle that I have made it to that day, in which these words are written. It is miraculous how I was brought back here, because I have a story

to tell, but I had given up on it long ago. It is here and only here – now – that my soul still finds refuge, a shelter – to collect time. A time of piece – to brush off the soot from my eyes and write.

If I succeed, when I succeed, I am rewarded with seeing myself in new light, and how beautiful that new image is. I feel the power springing from him, as he rides the blazing chariot, his gaze – strong enough to crack stone, his mind –unveiled, drowned in deep blue, and all the world around heeds it.

In an instant all is clear. I see him, and his original purpose – reunited. I see the reunion between what was meant to be and what is. And as what will be hatches, born of order and chaos, I know that my work is finally done.

I am finally complete.

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