20 views
No More.
NO MORE
When I think back on the time I have spent dreaming and pontificating, rather than acting, I am filled with a sense of dread. For I do not see a whimsical and imaginative soul enjoying their stroll around the mortal coil, as I have fooled many into perceiving me to be. Instead, I look on in horror at years of wasted youth and a life lived in mediocre complacency and laziness.
Rather than run, I crawl.
Rather than fight, I beg for my life and surrender to internal enemies
. Rather than profess the vast, fractal facets of my love and embrace my virtues, as well as my vices, with a bellowing war cry of defiance and pride; I sit in quiet desperation and pathetic self-doubt.
I am afraid.
Afraid to forgive myself.
Afraid to let this greedy, pointless ego of mine dissolve, and radiate the endless empathy and compassion that I feel for this suffering world.
Afraid to give into the love I feel in the deepest pit of my being.
Regardless of my denial, and this ridiculous, bubbly visage I wear like a mask, I will never fool myself.
I know that I am terrified of failure, scared of rejection, and I shy away from all these beautiful, masterful, kind souls. Those good and wonderful people that swirl around me like stars. Human’s born of celestial radiance that I am too dizzy, drunk, and blind to see.
I poison myself with nicotine, alcohol; psychoactives that no longer serve a psychiatric or spiritual purpose. Not to mention, that the very food that is meant to nourish me and give me strength, makes me weak and sick.
I worry of disease, and I eat trash. I brood over how I could help the world, yet I cannot even clean my house or know my neighbor’s name. I am estranged from my father because of a meaningless grudge which could be solved with one phone call. I waste the time and money of dear friends and allies with empty promises and fruitless ventures.
I dream, no, I hunger. I hunger and I yearn for a life where my sangha, my brotherhood; my family, might thrive and flourish if it were obtained; which it can be.
Easily.
Yet, for some disgraceful, no, for some evil and demonic purpose, I continue forward on this miserable and forsaken march that has proven time and time again to bare no fruit worth the harvest.
There is a monster, likely several, residing deep inside of myself. They are bent on my destruction and will stop at nothing to see me fail. These creatures have a leader. An Archdevil most foul. An Archetypical Satan of my own creation. The High Imperator of my own Doubt, Fear, and Hatred that has had me under it’s wretched boot for so long.
…. No more.
No more will I be tortured, bullied, and manipulated by demons of my own creation.
NO MORE
But, This Dark and Malicious Tyrant is me…
….and it is not me.
It is the me that I am on the surface, yet in all corners, as well….
an old arcane axiom of yore rings with a blinding clarity and brilliance as though it were an endless plane, stretching in every direction, made of prismatic diamonds and crystalline mirrors:
“As above, so below”
This Dark lord of my own making is all-encompassing; Save for a small window, a spark in the endless black, through which, from time to time, my true self peers through and meekly appeals to my higher self to cease this senseless rampage, and beat back the creature that has consumed my life.
But, alas, this is a fools request. For how do you defeat something so strong? So imposing, so tremendously powerful with such merciless brutality and malice that is laced within every action and between every line it writes, implied in every word uttered?
This demon Never sleeps; Never tires. It knows no compassion, nor does it listen to the pathetic whimpers of weak-willed humans. It cannot be killed, and it will remain with me for as long as I live.
It’s only sustenance is my suffering, fear, doubt, and self- sabotage.
---And then falls the rotten apple of epiphany. Crashing down onto the thick, stubborn, skull of a simpleton in scholar’s clothing-------
Eureka!
Silly me, how obvious my secret weapon is. So overt that If it were a real weapon, and it’s wielder bore me ill will, my head would have surely been relieved of my shoulders ages ago; Surprising only myself when the blade struck.
For this avatar of Anguish to live, it must cause me pain and suffering. It feeds on my own misery and despair….
…and therein lies it’s weakness. A very fatal flaw, indeed.
Now that I think about it….
…. I could not imagine a weaker foe.
My strength returns as does my true voice. I turn to face my enemy with the weapon I have unearthed.
“What do you fear, my Dark Prince? You, who have held me prisoner for an eternity, it seems. To think that all this time I’ve been controlled and suppressed by a demon made of mist. A paper tiger guarding a prisoner behind bars of brittle glass. It’s over, now. ”
I watched it shriek l in pain with the sound of my reclaimed voice
Battling my tricky impish foe, who’s bane wass a simple choice.
With Roles reversed, it lost all power , ending our civil war .
Now I know that demons die when you demand : “No more”
- L.A. Pate
1/02/2018
#motivation #prose #freeform
When I think back on the time I have spent dreaming and pontificating, rather than acting, I am filled with a sense of dread. For I do not see a whimsical and imaginative soul enjoying their stroll around the mortal coil, as I have fooled many into perceiving me to be. Instead, I look on in horror at years of wasted youth and a life lived in mediocre complacency and laziness.
Rather than run, I crawl.
Rather than fight, I beg for my life and surrender to internal enemies
. Rather than profess the vast, fractal facets of my love and embrace my virtues, as well as my vices, with a bellowing war cry of defiance and pride; I sit in quiet desperation and pathetic self-doubt.
I am afraid.
Afraid to forgive myself.
Afraid to let this greedy, pointless ego of mine dissolve, and radiate the endless empathy and compassion that I feel for this suffering world.
Afraid to give into the love I feel in the deepest pit of my being.
Regardless of my denial, and this ridiculous, bubbly visage I wear like a mask, I will never fool myself.
I know that I am terrified of failure, scared of rejection, and I shy away from all these beautiful, masterful, kind souls. Those good and wonderful people that swirl around me like stars. Human’s born of celestial radiance that I am too dizzy, drunk, and blind to see.
I poison myself with nicotine, alcohol; psychoactives that no longer serve a psychiatric or spiritual purpose. Not to mention, that the very food that is meant to nourish me and give me strength, makes me weak and sick.
I worry of disease, and I eat trash. I brood over how I could help the world, yet I cannot even clean my house or know my neighbor’s name. I am estranged from my father because of a meaningless grudge which could be solved with one phone call. I waste the time and money of dear friends and allies with empty promises and fruitless ventures.
I dream, no, I hunger. I hunger and I yearn for a life where my sangha, my brotherhood; my family, might thrive and flourish if it were obtained; which it can be.
Easily.
Yet, for some disgraceful, no, for some evil and demonic purpose, I continue forward on this miserable and forsaken march that has proven time and time again to bare no fruit worth the harvest.
There is a monster, likely several, residing deep inside of myself. They are bent on my destruction and will stop at nothing to see me fail. These creatures have a leader. An Archdevil most foul. An Archetypical Satan of my own creation. The High Imperator of my own Doubt, Fear, and Hatred that has had me under it’s wretched boot for so long.
…. No more.
No more will I be tortured, bullied, and manipulated by demons of my own creation.
NO MORE
But, This Dark and Malicious Tyrant is me…
….and it is not me.
It is the me that I am on the surface, yet in all corners, as well….
an old arcane axiom of yore rings with a blinding clarity and brilliance as though it were an endless plane, stretching in every direction, made of prismatic diamonds and crystalline mirrors:
“As above, so below”
This Dark lord of my own making is all-encompassing; Save for a small window, a spark in the endless black, through which, from time to time, my true self peers through and meekly appeals to my higher self to cease this senseless rampage, and beat back the creature that has consumed my life.
But, alas, this is a fools request. For how do you defeat something so strong? So imposing, so tremendously powerful with such merciless brutality and malice that is laced within every action and between every line it writes, implied in every word uttered?
This demon Never sleeps; Never tires. It knows no compassion, nor does it listen to the pathetic whimpers of weak-willed humans. It cannot be killed, and it will remain with me for as long as I live.
It’s only sustenance is my suffering, fear, doubt, and self- sabotage.
---And then falls the rotten apple of epiphany. Crashing down onto the thick, stubborn, skull of a simpleton in scholar’s clothing-------
Eureka!
Silly me, how obvious my secret weapon is. So overt that If it were a real weapon, and it’s wielder bore me ill will, my head would have surely been relieved of my shoulders ages ago; Surprising only myself when the blade struck.
For this avatar of Anguish to live, it must cause me pain and suffering. It feeds on my own misery and despair….
…and therein lies it’s weakness. A very fatal flaw, indeed.
Now that I think about it….
…. I could not imagine a weaker foe.
My strength returns as does my true voice. I turn to face my enemy with the weapon I have unearthed.
“What do you fear, my Dark Prince? You, who have held me prisoner for an eternity, it seems. To think that all this time I’ve been controlled and suppressed by a demon made of mist. A paper tiger guarding a prisoner behind bars of brittle glass. It’s over, now. ”
I watched it shriek l in pain with the sound of my reclaimed voice
Battling my tricky impish foe, who’s bane wass a simple choice.
With Roles reversed, it lost all power , ending our civil war .
Now I know that demons die when you demand : “No more”
- L.A. Pate
1/02/2018
#motivation #prose #freeform
