When do we ever know when it's time to do something at all? How do those birds do it? When they take their first steps out of the nest and then make that impossible plunge: It's either fly or die... Yet they don't even know if they can take flight like how they dreamed that they would. Such certainty that comes from faith... Exquisite~ And until today we have never seen a one bird that is afraid of heights.
Life is like a miner. We painfully pick up our hoes and pickaxes every morning and then we just dig and dig... Trying to uncover precious gems and stones along the way. Once in awhile we manage to excavate relics that remind us of who we are and where we are right now; sometimes we find glistening jewels that make us yelp with ecstasy; sometimes we hit an oil field and plumes of black gold just come streaming out of the ground like manna from heaven. But more often than not... we find ourselves so exhausted from our mining when the sun goes down and the stars come out. Because with each hitting of our hoes against the solid bed rock our hands grow more weary from the recoil of each forceful strike we exert- telling ourselves there is hope to be found... Because with each collision... we find dismay that behind one rock comes another... a monotony as surely it is to dig like a clockwork in motion.
Can we ever have that 100% certainty in whatever we choose to do? Because life is full of risks and full of probabilities. As if math in school is not enough; it is integrated and insidiously woven around our lives. How do I ever have the confidence that things will be alright... that this time will be different from the other when the memory of our past hurts just makes us so very cautious and we get so very tired just having to be so cautious. To the guardian of time and space of ancient Greece... to the famed Kairos and Kronos... tell me... I beckon thee... show me a wrinkle in time when doing something will guarantee that past hurts can be at long last dissolved from the face of history- Show me what it means to lead the same story but with a different ending.
We always wish that things will happen our way. Especially when it comes to other people... we wish that people will do certain things: We expect things; we wish for love; we wish for friends... ... But I'm so confused... Because if everyone did what I wanted... they would be nothing but puppets and dolls with no free will. So what is the beauty in wishing that anymore? And so what if I decided that I shall not wish that things go my way anymore? I'll get hurt won't I? So does it mean that I love getting hurt? Yes... perhaps hurt is my one true friend... a friend that never abandons me.
How ironic it truly is... I am alive because I feel the pain of dying. It's because I perceive with all my human senses the pain that I know I am alive and living. Because I see the hurtful things and memories... because I smell the scent of the looming rain cloud... because I hear those words that echo from a distant past... because I feel the throbbing of a bleeding heart... because I taste despair in every breath... Pain reminds me that I am alive indeed... how invigorating...
Do I still have the faith left to believe? To believe in rewriting the past in the present. Because truly truly... A side of me accepts that I am cursed and condemned. So I should die with my secrets that no one will ever ever know... Is revelations so important? The truth is secrets hurt more than we think they do. The reasons we chose to hide and to run away... why is that?
I wish I could lead a life with no secrets... because I want nothing to hide. I remembered a time... for years perhaps... since things first started... and my heart cringes and trembles over a wish so repeatedly expressed and prayed upon... but never did... never will? come true after all~~
drip. drip. drop
No comments:
Post a Comment