In an unending journey of self-discovery,
I’ve traversed several seasons in choiceless solitude,
I’ve danced in the cacophony of summer,
Slept for seemingly endless hours of autumn,
Withered in the chills of winter’s frost,
Woken up to new beginnings as spring’s ghost
Adding layers of memories with every fresh breath,
Losing sight of countless revelations with every death.
I was born a brute, an angel clipped of its wings,
Visions engulfed in the pursuit of banal desire,
Shrouded intelligence in a mist of robotic repetition,
Learning tiny steps yet falling into an abyss,
I’ve searched for Gods around with half-closed eyes,
I’ve knelt to stone and prayed to the skies,
I’ve tangled the self in directionless motion,
I’ve lived many cyclical lives of perpetual commotion.
Amidst chaos and bliss, as a child of ether and dust,
wandered alone as if on a forsaken quest,
at the empty expansive sky, I’ve stared for answers,
ventured desolate lands in search of a neighbour,
maybe the night wind would share a passing whisper,
at the sound of thunder, I did timidly whimper,
little I knew of my own existence; from highlands
to seashores, from riverbeds to remote islands.
From being the hunted to turn the hunter,
made tools from bone, Made arms from stone,
I’ve tilled the soil to find fruit out of seed,
I’ve spun yarn from worm, turned clay into brick,
Carved wheel out of wood, yet forgetting its existence,
adding with every new life a spark of brilliance.
Sculpted rock to find art no naked eye could see,
Transfigured from a brute no angel did foresee.
Leapt over hillocks yet tumbled on potholes
Waded the oceans yet drowned in puddles,
Tripped on thistles that exist as a mirage,
I tread barefoot on a voyage into the self,
Waged a war against the pull of Earth to fly,
my weight my enemy as I reach for the sky.
entangled in the memory of many a myriad vision,
convulsing in dilemma of action and inaction.
As a seed of the sun, a child of ethereal light
A young star’s offspring of an amoral marriage,
under the watch of a father’s cyclical shadows,
raised in the warmth of a mother’s gnashes and spasms,
I’ve lived lives cursed by the waxing crescent,
I’ve waded through currents on a waning descent,
their endless adoration the root of civilization,
their prodigal child the parent of cognition.
I’ve lived countless lives, complete yet liminal,
I’ve existed concurrently, physical and subliminal,
I’ve theorized and discovered, seminal and peripheral,
I Am complete, yet a mind bicameral, a man bicameral.
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