When we think we still remember…
Did we forget? How did it blindly pass us?
Were we seeing a light? Was it angels that spoke to us, and
simply put us into that right moment and right spot, right people, and all the
right things that unexplainably fit to what we thought we were experiencing? It
never failed, and this external, or unconsciously internal, work of bringing
things together always there ahead of us. It keeps pushing us until we begin to
see a trail; later, we start to impair. The promise and the hope of healing
from despair was not the remedy nor did it keep us from being too lost to
repair. This voice that we eventually get used to, and sometimes unwittingly
block when we are too busy to listen. Experiences, journeys, stories, history;
and the list goes on with these obscure and senseless words we are calling on
real lives. Real equations of direct compulsions towards what it all is, and
certainly, part of our – not separate, reoccurring cycles of time; so, shouldn’t
we be learning?
We are human. Complex beings, actually, complex universes –
too complex for typical, and probably more complex than to remain
characterless. The character is deep within our nature completing this world for
a just flow of energy and its balance. Each character, each universe, each one
of us is especially designed with a specified effect in creating harmony and
balance. Unfortunately, when this design is replaced year after year with
sorrow and untrusting the process, a system of errors and awes is built. A
system that human now suffer. Overwhelmed with worry to stop at a point where
it might cause the loss of what is not even already there, and what might seem
to be there. Could we really lose it all? Isn’t it all merging back?
Not afraid of loss is the first step towards wearing the
design back again, and sometimes that is how our most wonderful journeys begin.
Or do we not always remain at that excitement and free of those heavy cuffs? We
have structured our minds and perception in a way that when we see others
talking about a different reality it becomes something that we can’t digest, or
that they will eventually give-up and adjust. As if nothing shifts one off of
the impaired trails in life except bitterness, and still, after sometime one
begins to impair their trail back again by giving in to loss, fear, guilt, and
all those powerful emotions (which are meant only as signs communicating with
the self and not direct controllers of oneself let alone tools of manipulation
at the hand of others.)
To be overwhelmed by the
system, programmed since early years of life, and pressured by everyone to be
one of what the rest is. Here or there, it doesn’t matter where and with who as
well as for what, when it becomes psychological pressure and not free will of
the soul. Conformity might seem like a smart diplomatic “effective” dress a
person could wear, but in fact, it is only a cover for the flaws of the system
itself. Sometime while at the road somewhere, if we forget who we are, will we
know we have forgotten (when we are struggling on how to erase our character
and abide?) Could it be that the captivating spells of life are indeed the
struggle or distraction? To shed them off of oneself is to be free they say,
but when it has grown deep into the soul, into the thoughts and dreams too, is that
possible? Obstinately, I must ask why? Why do we need to fit in to their unjust
protocols?
To be captured, locked,
and waiting for the answer. Seeing all options mere assumptions and nothing
promises real fixture. Too ill to think and full of pain to be wise. Rushing
blindly through the way while anxiously waiting for the abyss. No lifeboats nor
will anyone ever assure you things will go alright, and if they do they lie, or
come to save you when it’s too late.
I am not saying I’m not
lost, nor that my heart never aches. I have walked on the wrong shoes, and
wanted to fix my mistakes. Mile by mile, one by one I let go off, and now, an
escapee from the ashes of my soul. Chased by it I forgot what it was all.
Memories of my childhood and near life come to my mind at a time when everything
have become different from then, as if to warn me or a sign to stop here and reconnect
the lines. Did I forget so much of that past, and why does it seem so strange
to even be mine? I thought I still remember why, but with confusion, I begin to
ask why – why did I begin this journey? The most honest reasons are usually at
the beginning because of their force that took us out of our routine life or
comfort zone, and so to no longer remember those strong passionate motives is a
warning sign.
