Life is full of emotions and estranged feelings, we live and walk, talk and breath, but most of the time we do not speak what is on our heart or utter what is on our mind. In this way, these thoughts, feelings and emotions get repressed into us, and our body digests them, taking the allotted toll of their malnutrition. Why do we do this to ourselves? Is it our fear to burden others or are we merely terrified to share such personal secrets? By which, if the latter, we do not want to weaken ourselves again to be broken by yet another confident who fails our trust. How many masks do we wear? And if you claim to veil yourself in none, how many social circles do you escape to in order to avoid such issues, how many activities do you blind yourself into to remove your mind from those pervasive problems? The mingling throng of the masses blindly do obliterate themselves. In this way, by that name, they smudge their identity, losing themselves into the mass extinction.
We all hurt, and not a heart forgets to bleed, that is the nature of the world and the environment we live in, and in excuse, we construct complex infrastructures called civilizations and society to forget our individuality and the pain that associates with it so strongly. We all know this notion, subconsciously, subliminally or not, we have faced the interrogation of our own questions, the questions that bite at our heart, yet we have no answer.
If we are called to Love, why does Love so often only end in Tragedy? What worth is Love if it seems only the seed of Tragedy? Why do we live? So that we may love? Why do we love? So that we may die? So that we may find the heartbreak when it is all gone and done for?
We all know the answer as well as we know the questions. Sin. Iniquity.
But if this be the case it gives us no hope to be merry ourselves, to grow old with any possible chance of happiness. And in that proposition, it seems the joys themselves birth as many, if not more, turmoils than the happiness could compensate for.
I know tragedy. Should knowing that I am not alone comfort me or only frighten me about the state of the rest of the world? Why is the process of living only the linear progression of dying? Why is the process of loving seem only the slow succumbing to insanity and hatred?
Look, there are only two options. Persecution or leisure. I cannot stand up here and say that everything will be okay, I cannot claim that the brutalities are worth it or are even able to be merited by the short gaping moments of happiness. But here is something that can comfort, if you are bleeding, if you are suffering, if you are dying, feeling suffocated, you can guarantee yourself you are doing something right. The fact is, Love does not open the door to simplicity and leisure, Love does not come with tidings of prosperity and blessings. Love comes with broken hearts and tragedy. This is something nobody wants to hear but everybody needs to wake to realize. Love does not endow bliss; Love is an opportunity. And that opportunity is to do something that nobody else would, if you sing and cry in the name of Love, you will find torment, and you will find the heat of inflictions. Love will put a soldering iron against your heart and black blood will rain in scars and teardrops will release burdens. This is not to say that Love is the tormentor, but it is the cause.
Love brought the Cross to Christ.
The reason why the hippies were wrong was because they thought they could endure both Peace and Love. Love does herald two things. Mercy and Grace. Mercy is the construct of Love, while Grace is the extension of Love. In order to survive a life of living Love, you need both, more necessarily for yourself than for others, but the only way to sustain it for yourself is to give it away. Do not ask God why you are suffering for the good you have done, rather instead clasp your hand tight to Christ and your lashes will bleed on Him. If you strive to do Good, if you fight to Love, you will die. Because the last thing the world and Lucifer wants to see is somebody doing the Right thing, living with the expression of Love. Because that just kinda pisses him off. The world will grind to a stop before somebody is allowed to Love freely without paying the consequences of their choices. That is why Love is an opportunity. That is why Love is Tragedy. Because you pay the price.
Look, you have two options. Persecution or leisure. The malformed maniacs of the world will spit in your face and mock you once again, the chaos forces antagonizing your life, marriage and friends, they will drill the bolt into your blood stained wound, they will give you every pain, every death, every torment, every hurt, every bleeding heart, and every reason for you to give up, escape, stop your course, or cease. Love is stubborn. Love is unconditional. They will bring you down, till your face is burning against the asphalt and they will scream their loudest resounding echos in your hollow mind. Stop. Stop. Stop.
I wrote this December 30th, 2005.
By: Regardless
Unperceivable whispers.
Frozen daggers in your mind.
Steel bullets in your heart.
Don't know where they come from.
Don't want to know.
Don't want to believe.
Can't find the words to understand.
But this fight I cannot stand.
These unperceivable whispers,
They drench my mind.
Don't consider faith, for its not mine.
Elements fragmenting and falling away,
Although I cannot see fine,
It's just what I can say.
For the world never knew,
yet they all said the same.
For it's what we battle,
an unperceived foe.
Whispers corrupting our mind.
Elements fragmenting and falling away,
Yet I cannot see them,
it's the way I feel, and it's the way I'd say,
A crumbling annihilation,
Something I do not understand.
Where's the place to say,
It wasn't me, it was them.
Or the knowledge to realize,
It’s sin,
Just a fictional thing.
Unperceivable foes circling my head,
piercing my heart.
Surrender is what they want,
They tell me, they say,
"No reason to stay.
Give us your all,
or die fighting for it.
For you have no power, no authority
Your just a human, a mutation,
just a simple sensations,
a random coagulation.
Give us your all,
Trust us, this is what we say,
No reason to stay."
That's just what they say.
That's just what they say.
Could you say it's true?
Love is an opportunity to stand up and fight, to say no and resists, despite the consequences, despite the impacts, despite the pain, bloodshot and beaten and to still say, "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise"and to turn to the world and proclaim, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do"even when the world turns black.
"Eli Eli lama sabachthani?"
