I discovered that my back had been on it’s back with time lavishly, and that my lack of speaking candidly was burning my life – branding me. Making me out to be, something I was not, like Frosty the Snowman saying “this is why I’m hooot.” My words were out of this world, but my body was still in it, chasin for a makeup like girls, but it’s impossible to make up winning. Like manhood- winning is a choice. You can choose to be silent or you can silently choose your voice. Lock and key mean nothing to the locksmith who supercedes, and likewise I had to realize that The Wordsmith – is me. No need to hide. No need to shy. No need to make a need when transparency will get you by. I used to open my mouth, and speak through closed lips, spending a lot of time saying nothing thus preventing any closeness… Such a tragedy, like Oedipus and Macbeth… It’s imperative I get back to ME, elsewise my life will read like death.
This is the return.
Shackles and vices, defense mechanisms, protective devices… In the darkness of our childhood we forge all of these lights, but until we see the sun we will be trapped inside the night. Even the knight must shed his armor, and be a whole person, but if he stays stuck inside his protection, he could bleed to death and nobody would ever know he was hurting. The strongest step anyone can take is the one of vulnerability… That brings on healing. Add a dash confidence, and sprinkle some humility, and now you have a pie of honesty to throw in the face of the enemy. Even if it’s you. Sometimes you gotta cream your own self with the truth. Ignore the dark around the stars and remember the sky the is blue. Dance in storm rains, and work hard during the droughts. Let your joy flow from your depths, and never cap it off.
This is the return.
I’m reversing my body’s position like inverting my vertebrae, and verily I do say that these strings are hereby clipped- no more playing games. No more reciting lines. No more wasting time. No more psychic weight left to clutter up my mind! As the soldier returns from war, self – I’m coming home! I’ve got so many parts to me that it’s puzzling, but I lay down the habit of begrudging it, and take on the practices of the scooby doo kids. I’m meddling. I am in and about my business. I’m all up in my kool-aid, and I may not know the flavor, but it’ll get tossed out in the street if it don’t taste like favor…. You see- I have always had the ability, to par kour the mundane with my dreams with the utmost agility, but when the faith line was cast… I would recoil. … When the faith line was cast- I would recoil. … When the faith line was cast -I would recoil. That’s like wanting to make some spaghetti, but refusing to use oil. It was doubt…. But now I believe! I was made a bird to soar in the sky… I believe! If I can dream it then it’s real. If I can see it I can do it. There is no thing I cannot accomplish if I just DO it. I believe. It was a long crazy ride with moments of cataracts, but there’s only one relevant fact- my eyes are open and I’m back.
This IS the return to me.