The Pen is my Life's Link, it's ink runs truer through me than my own blood, for through it my Truth flows of a starker clarity than actions can alone
testify. At once both grand and insignificant, this ignoble dwelling of words is my lot; giving birth to thoughts of Unity and words of Life, mere
shadows of what could be. Intimate knowledge of personal iniquity clouds the senses, a vague oppressive darkness inside which gives lie to that
without, blotting my consciousness.
I feel my Self torn asunder yet the Page promises refuge still. Aware of my overwhelming limitations, I trudge on in spite. Warrior of thought, Hero
of mind, noble of Soul- Realities Fool. Caught in a twilight gloom, I chase the lingering remnants of the sun, harboring strange suspicions of
illusory lights in the darkness. When every step disturbs the darkness and causes it to swirl and stir, it is hard to keep faith in a tiny shard of
Impossibly insignificant, hinting at unimaginable beauty and strength, a noble Dream, a Fools delusion- intangible words of Light. I hold the spark
close, and breath, hoping it will alight the dwindling ashes of a constrained soul. Convinced yet of the power within, yet it is easy to wonder "If
you are so powerful and True, how did you ever get surpassed?" The question is met with the same loving-kindness as always and I tremble to
understand, it is because fear is love twisted by the idea of loss, tainted by pride to grab and never let go. From love it flows and to love it
returns- a lesson in the futility of holding on to that which might be lost.
Time to time, the spark flares anew and I rejoice: tumbling new words with joy these fireworks are short lived- I am glad for their coming despite my
despair of their departure. More often then not, that glow has guttered so low I fear it to be dead- yet I am learning that my strength is needed to
continue on in faith more than ever.
Perspectives are as many as grains of sand, and just as stable; I alight on the hope that the weakness and ineptness I feel are the fading remnants of
one rising awake, rather than the vestigial stirrings of consciousness in one falling asleep. Either way, this twilight awakening remains. I weep, for
the spark remains with its aura of Love and-it cannot hide it- disappointment in me! I have failed all it has asked and yet it would comfort me!
Leaning towards rage at this impotent self-pity, yet I feel her silent rebuke and sit chastised.
I try to breath, and to listen- such a simple act that nevertheless consumes my effort and leaves me wasted on the floor. When the Darkness divides,
my saving grace is that I always return. Through the Long night-whether I have trotted on in despair or trudged on with resolution- I watch in
amazement as the smoldering star rises back to a flickering life- not quite a flame, but nevertheless a steadily burning spark that refuses to die. I
try to Keep this One point in mind and rest and proceed from Light, despair soon arises when I fail again.
I now perceive, that it has seemed to me for so long that I am hemmed in and crushed by adversity- never enough room to breathe, let alone grow and
live- never realizing(and worse! never applying) resistance against unbeatable odds, resigning to a battle I had never fought, unaware that precious
room would be awarded... To perceive, rather, the face of adversity as space in which to grow, climb past, and ascend upon... Long I have hear, but
now I believe- the battle is won/lost the instant it is waged-its all in the mind, after all.
To initiate the reconstruction of ones consciousness: to apply ones Will to ones Self-for the two, I have learned are separate- that I might be
reconciled and abide in a state of natural excellence... It is forever a question I cannot turn away from, and in the question lies the problem... As
if one is aware of a faculty which, like breathe, should be unconsciously maintained, but perceiving it isn't one cannot for their life begin to
I feel lingering at the edge of my Awareness a sort of urgency- to ignite that essential function~unity~ that is the summation of my hopes and
dreams, which I suspect is nowhere to be found but that very dim star...It is a matter of, I now consider, overcoming despair of the light not being
bigger by being thankful for the grace of having known the Light at all- of learning to think, that just as one in a dark hole might alight on a
circle of flame, so too is this star a metaphysical route to freedom.
Like climbing a hair to stand on a needles edge... Learning, not to think, but to actualize my Noblest Self in deed as well as thought... I turn to
the page that I might find clarity of my plagues and thereby step outside them, thereby enabled to start working on the problem... I now realize, that
before I sought mere freedom, and expected this itself to be the solution to my woes... and then, turning back in despair, shrinking from a mountain
of iniquity and corruption... I learn to wipe my eyes clear and do what needs to be done. At long last, I come to the page not to flounder, but to
Hopefully the OP doesn't mind..much more readable..and very poetically written..S&F
again.. if I took too much liberty..I apologize ..