Finding Your Way to the Beginning
I’ve not posted as of recent
Not nearly as often as ideas spewed into my speaking
mind
Particularly
those topics I discuss with myself within my skull, with no one listening; discussion
requires two. Yet, as of late, I have had an experience surface for my attending
this whole notion of purpose; be it divine or self-appointed.
I’ve heard purpose used
in a multitude of ways; all as inspiration for the listener to get their act
together. Still, I’ve come to respect
the best lessons of life are bought by failure and not happenstance of good
fortune. When it comes to plans coming
out, we readily forget past successes as we chew on unfairness of those ripped
from endeared clutching. I’ll add to
that observation, I believe for the lesson to have a really lasting impression,
there needs to be a certainty that shatters.
I say that with full intention to focus not on failure to meet projected
end states; or desires unfulfilled, but rather a personal certainty born upon subjective
prediction that failed to meet the reality test. At those devastations lies the gift of true
awareness.
I’ve my own history of taking my-own-darn-sweet-time
learning a lesson. I have adequate scars
in all the levels of existence; physical, emotional and mental, attesting to my
not-so-clear-headed, slovenly executed plans.
Only in the rectitude of not being asked to leave this earthly plane can
I cringe at my foolishness; but in actuality, I was just blinded by my
certainty.
Where did I learn to ignore the facts? Clearly I can’t recall being set down by my
parents and advised to follow my own passionate configuration of how the world
should be. Nor was it some teacher advocating
the merits of delusional thinking. The
jury is still out concerning my religious indoctrination since I’m leaning
towards an acceptance of the general anxiety in that realm for me to swallow
their doctrine whole as a template for the order of things. But I’m not so much looking for a culprit,
but rather a point where my beginning had been corrupted. I am confident I wasn’t always like this, as
many would say in their laments. I also
am acutely aware of going from generalities to specifics back to generalities as
I ponder the whispering question in my head, “Is this the way of decrepity ?”
I had been
passionately convinced it was just a question of time until being discovered;
for me to realize a dream of doing music for a living. Then, as the fantasy waned by decades of depravation
I gladly offered it upon my altar of sacrifice for art’s sake, did I realize my
delusion; I moved on to writing with desire to be heard.
No kidding, I was well into adulthood and
continued to foster a child’s unrelenting need, no, anguish to be heard.
Of course, because it was so well rooted into my psyche, I
couldn’t sort it out from the muddle into
the open light of actual until it ran its course; like a fever. But it did run its course, and I was left dry
and callous towards the lover who seduced me with promises laced in if I
only… (fill in the blank.)
I was once
new;
in the
beginning
There were
no concepts of necessary
to feel
joyful
I just was
Perhaps it
was when I started to listen,
To really
listen, to the questions asked of me
I noticed
some of
those questions were repeated
frequently;
by many
“Why did
you do that?”
To my fresh
mind
It was a
ridiculous question
A playful
ruse
to find
value in absurdity
It was so
nakedly obvious
To see what
would happen of course
It’s taken
me over a half of a century
to find my
way back
to the
beginning
To the pure
delight of action
a desire to
witness
What will
change?
like a firefly on a summer night
Predict the
next spellbinding
Brilliant
flash.
