Jan 2021
How long?
How long does it take for a wound to heal?
How long for you to feel whole once again?
Perhaps a small scratch on the arm takes weeks,
Perhaps a large **** on a leg takes months,
Perhaps the deepest wound of all takes years,
But what wound would that be?
Would it be an amputated limb,
A limb that was once apart of your body,
That has now been torn off.
Or maybe, it’s a deeper wound than that.
One that reaches to the very depths of your soul,
One that reached your core,
And tore it apart from the inside out,
A virus,
A contagion.
A cancer that reached the innocent person you once preserved,
The innocent person that came out of hiding,
And showed itself to one other person,
And that person killed them, destroyed them, annihilated them.
How long?
One year?
Two years?
Three years?
Maybe more?
What happens during this healing time?
I’ll tell you what happens,
It ruins your heart.
Razes the buildings of conviction and reason in your head,
Tearing them down and replacing them with a shelter for sickened thoughts,
And establishes shrines of a great power of nihilism.
How long until this anarchal government and reigning establishment of power in your mind,
Leaves and lets the free spirit of joy relieve your nerves?
This socialism and totalitarianism in which all are the same,
Except the wrenching ****** structure of the dictator,
Who has breached upon the rights of every brain cell,
And makes individuality fade,
And your identity along with it.
Maybe this is a part of the process?
How could it be one in the same with this evil?
How could a pain so vile and gruesome,
Be the work of a medicine?
No!
I have been broken and I will not heal!
I cannot!
My pride will not allow me,
My soul will not allow me!
I have something to prove!
I must prove that I am not able to be healed,
That I am not a soul to be saved!
I am not looking to a higher power to come down from the heavens and save me,
I am not filled with fear or disillusionment,
You are the imposter here,
You are the one that does not belong!
I am the one who is thinking straight!
I see what no others can!
I see what no others are able,
I see the world the way it was made
A dark, cruel place where the forebodings of the future are the only constant,
The ticking of a clock and fall of a pencil are the only constant,
The pain and the suffering are the only constant.
I see the world in its purest form,
A singularity,
A planet that turned into an exploding star,
The product of which does not let even light escape.
Not one photon.
Not one reflection or refraction.
Not one neuroreceptor that works properly.
Are these two things comparable by nature?
A basic source of light being the same as a feeling of being alive?
Both have been deprived from my body,
One in a metaphysical sense,
The other in an anatomical sense.
How have we reached this point?
Because of the wound.
It all circles back to the wound that I have received,
It has made me ill.
I see.
I see now.
I let this thing feast off of me,
Vultures and flies to a carcass.
It consumed me whole, digesting me without my knowledge.
I was slowly waking up,
Floating back towards the surface,
In a liquid that had an exceptional viscosity,
A sap that would let me come back up at a protracted rate.
But now I’m intelligent enough to understand my surroundings,
And I can see a light.
The light?
Comparable to happiness.
I’m here,
Someone who was in pain is now no longer,
Someone has been healed of their wounds.
Or perhaps I will still limp,
Perhaps I will still struggle to gain footing,
But one day I will be able to run a marathon,
And I will prove what I need to those around me.
Prove something.
What was it that I wanted to prove beforehand?
Was it that I could not heal?
It seems so distant and so far,
I hardly remember what I felt.
Why would I wish that upon myself?
Now I must prove my humanity.
I must prove that I can feel once again.
I must prove that I am reborn,
But most importantly I must prove that I can forgive.
Forgiving a person is possibly the hardest task one can be given,
And it has been given to me.
I must either cast it aside,
Or embrace it for what it is,
And I do not want to be in pain anymore.
Revolutions within one’s mind,
A great war with himself, herself, themselves.
I have torn down these buildings of suffering,
These buildings which incite torment,
A great government has been replaced,
A prosperous society for all,
And now an individual trait can be found once again,
Or an old one can be revived,
And all love can come back,
All joy can return.
An ensured security of the core will be set,
One that will keep it safe, and let others understand how it works,
One that will keep you loving the world around you,
One that will keep you safe.
A wound healed,
A ministry reformed,
A battle won,
A star formed,
A point proven.
How long does it take for a wound to heal?
How long for you to feel whole once again?
Perhaps a small scratch on the arm takes weeks,
Perhaps a large **** on a leg takes months,
Perhaps the deepest wound of all takes years,
But what wound would that be?
Would it be an amputated limb,
A limb that was once apart of your body,
That has now been torn off.
Or maybe, it’s a deeper wound than that.
One that reaches to the very depths of your soul,
One that reached your core,
And tore it apart from the inside out,
A virus,
A contagion.
A cancer that reached the innocent person you once preserved,
The innocent person that came out of hiding,
And showed itself to one other person,
And that person killed them, destroyed them, annihilated them.
How long?
One year?
Two years?
Three years?
Maybe more?
What happens during this healing time?
I’ll tell you what happens,
It ruins your heart.
Razes the buildings of conviction and reason in your head,
Tearing them down and replacing them with a shelter for sickened thoughts,
And establishes shrines of a great power of nihilism.
How long until this anarchal government and reigning establishment of power in your mind,
Leaves and lets the free spirit of joy relieve your nerves?
This socialism and totalitarianism in which all are the same,
Except the wrenching ****** structure of the dictator,
Who has breached upon the rights of every brain cell,
And makes individuality fade,
And your identity along with it.
Maybe this is a part of the process?
How could it be one in the same with this evil?
How could a pain so vile and gruesome,
Be the work of a medicine?
No!
I have been broken and I will not heal!
I cannot!
My pride will not allow me,
My soul will not allow me!
I have something to prove!
I must prove that I am not able to be healed,
That I am not a soul to be saved!
I am not looking to a higher power to come down from the heavens and save me,
I am not filled with fear or disillusionment,
You are the imposter here,
You are the one that does not belong!
I am the one who is thinking straight!
I see what no others can!
I see what no others are able,
I see the world the way it was made
A dark, cruel place where the forebodings of the future are the only constant,
The ticking of a clock and fall of a pencil are the only constant,
The pain and the suffering are the only constant.
I see the world in its purest form,
A singularity,
A planet that turned into an exploding star,
The product of which does not let even light escape.
Not one photon.
Not one reflection or refraction.
Not one neuroreceptor that works properly.
Are these two things comparable by nature?
A basic source of light being the same as a feeling of being alive?
Both have been deprived from my body,
One in a metaphysical sense,
The other in an anatomical sense.
How have we reached this point?
Because of the wound.
It all circles back to the wound that I have received,
It has made me ill.
I see.
I see now.
I let this thing feast off of me,
Vultures and flies to a carcass.
It consumed me whole, digesting me without my knowledge.
I was slowly waking up,
Floating back towards the surface,
In a liquid that had an exceptional viscosity,
A sap that would let me come back up at a protracted rate.
But now I’m intelligent enough to understand my surroundings,
And I can see a light.
The light?
Comparable to happiness.
I’m here,
Someone who was in pain is now no longer,
Someone has been healed of their wounds.
Or perhaps I will still limp,
Perhaps I will still struggle to gain footing,
But one day I will be able to run a marathon,
And I will prove what I need to those around me.
Prove something.
What was it that I wanted to prove beforehand?
Was it that I could not heal?
It seems so distant and so far,
I hardly remember what I felt.
Why would I wish that upon myself?
Now I must prove my humanity.
I must prove that I can feel once again.
I must prove that I am reborn,
But most importantly I must prove that I can forgive.
Forgiving a person is possibly the hardest task one can be given,
And it has been given to me.
I must either cast it aside,
Or embrace it for what it is,
And I do not want to be in pain anymore.
Revolutions within one’s mind,
A great war with himself, herself, themselves.
I have torn down these buildings of suffering,
These buildings which incite torment,
A great government has been replaced,
A prosperous society for all,
And now an individual trait can be found once again,
Or an old one can be revived,
And all love can come back,
All joy can return.
An ensured security of the core will be set,
One that will keep it safe, and let others understand how it works,
One that will keep you loving the world around you,
One that will keep you safe.
A wound healed,
A ministry reformed,
A battle won,
A star formed,
A point proven.
