I stand in the middle of a large, flat plain. Hands by my side and eyes straight ahead. If you look closer though you will notice that tentacles rage out from inside me flailing in wild objection. That is the nature of my belief. Even my greatest composure cannot for all time betray the murder inside me and exiled on this plain my black arms cannot injure.
Before I arrived here I saw a crowd of one million men and women all suppressing themselves and going insane. Their evil nature overcame them and from the mass spewed ugly complacency and inurgency and all the things that constitute a wasting society. I fell to my knees and prayed, I said: "Lord, Lord, change me from inside and let me not strive with actions alone for I am futility and destitution wrapped up in skin and bones". And so I ran. Out of my home and my town into the land of nobody and of nothing all for nothing. I then felt that with all the running I will do in this lifetime that I will never get any closer than I have already; I will be no closer to the goal which is infinite and yet I will continue to move from my starting place. I am perpetually a beginner and confined to the realm of finitude acting upon the infinity that is weaving through my bones and bursting me outward at the seams.
We hear wonderful things when we listen. But that is hard to remember and even harder to do.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment