You grow your sadness like an evergreen;
it ebbs and flows in you like the sea.
It is an hour too soon to shroud hope.
Save this night to stretch out your weary bones,
for mornings glorify the landscapes of night wounds.
Armoured stranger, what have you to fear?
We are all wounded in this land, you see.
We are the forsaken sons and daughters of Time,
raised in binding disconnect.
These days we pray for nights dark enough to comfort us,
and for Time to learn how to shelter us.
We the beautiful persistent dissonance.
I hadn’t written this part previously, only to realize that I was going against what I am speaking of by writing cryptically. So, I am challenging myself to have to explain myself (I seldom feel that I have to, or that it changes anything at all).
This piece is inspired by the collection of poems by Baudelaire, as well as David Whyte’s Sweet Darkness. It was written with one thought in mind: the fear of vulnerability. It reflects on the fear of appearing vulnerable, being aware that one is not the only one with such burdens. The more the issue is put into focus, the more it seems that one’s true worry is that their vulnerability will not be understood.
A reason behind believing that we will not be met with understanding is because we recognize how polarized are the values that are held within a society. Values within societies have become increasingly polarized with the passage of time, due to globalization and information technology. This connectedness has created an ideological shift: we are no longer who we are supposed to be and our surroundings have become even less familiar. This threatens our sense of societal cohesion. Our connectedness to the global disconnects us from our surroundings. We are together in our aloneness.
It is important for us to come to the realization that we are not alone in feeling disconnected and out of place, and that this diversity has also created a different kind of compassion within us. It is courageous to accept our vulnerability as an essential part of our being and learning. We have to accept that we can reconcile with our surroundings, accept the differences within others and the differences within ourselves; thus, creating a medium for compassion and understanding.
How foolish is it for one to assume comfort and happiness in not knowing? Purposefully blinding themselves, rejecting the journey of seeking, and walking a foggy path only seeing what is right in front of them? Why fear flipping stones, if what’s there is there? It is the fear of shifting perception. Whatever a person could live with, they adopt.
Truth is ought to catch up with us before too long. When realization washes over like a tidal wave, we figure what we were truly missing. Curiosity expands our world view, the knowledge of our choices, and the context at which we see ourselves as a part of the whole. What we choose to partake, and the freedom of knowing our choices, is what determines a life path.
Active observation does not necessitate the absorption of values. It is of absolute importance to learn how to appreciate an art form or a thought stream without necessarily agreeing or letting it become one of your own expressions of truth. Entertaining thought streams that aren’t your own, however absurd they may seem, is ought to teach you something you don’t know or feel something that you haven’t felt before.
Stability or integrity, what are you looking for? I’d rather keep shifting.
Sit and stare into crowded spaces. Watch as ripples of thoughts and voices surface up into impressions. Note the color of their being and the taste of heartache. What’s the absurd but a cluster of seemingly well-behaved organisms? I know that I’ll lose my face in a whirling lifetime of strangers.
I’ve been running alongside the winds and currents because no land would contain me. My skin is of its own, and my spirit is of its ghosts. I’ve learnt how to grow not to where the blood runs but to where the wind blows and the heart seeks. “Steady your feet and sharpen your teeth,” the regular chant.
Uncertainties: well-rehearsed verses humming in my ears and fading into the dead of the night. “Elude what you cannot grasp, and what cannot grasp you,” as I calculate only what I need to sail from shore to shore. These are lonesome voyages; they are meant to be so.
Its a game of timelines, conditions and chances; you’re the only player.
What do you want? You cannot have what you want because you want it.
What do you want? The circumstances do not match up.
What do you want? It’s too late.
Listen to the sound of your heart breaking either way.
It is not a game of timelines; you only see them because you’re scared.
Carry your memories like stones with timestamps in your left pocket, and your un-memories with the time posts that you’ve missed in your right. Lopsided, I know.