Somewhere between our thoughts and our emotions the essence of who we are lies. Made of flesh; deteriorating, rotten, expendable but unique sequence of DNA, we carry the same mark of being human. Breathing, feeling, learning we spend our life-defining the meaning of who we are. Somewhere in the middle of that quest, we get disappointed for the meaning that we were hoping for disappears and the lairs of existential contradictions rise from the mist of self-deception and the deception of the world.
Now, it seems we are too fragile for the world we created. The wounds we afflict upon ourselves and each other are altering in the most incredible way.
Are we growing with our wounds?
Their existence as a representation of our evolution would go hand in hand with those who define life as suffering and redemption.
Flesh when afflicted bears scars, but it’s the emotional trauma that is tearing us apart.
The gentle threads, shimmering shades of our heart, everlasting innocence getting crushed. It’s the arrows of opposing illusions that create pain, the abyss between beliefs, expectations, and the reality we do not share. Healing is a phenomenon we all aspire, a myth created to arouse hope and desire for survival.
. . .
Wishful thinking, it’s all that it is
for the wounds never heal.
But we need that thread of hope,
that it will pass leaving us stronger and wiser.
It’s the only way we can survive,
for we are creatures of the stars and the sky.
The Earth is here to feed, so we can exist.
It’s the stars we aspire to be.
Words and actions, or lack of both
create holes in our soul.
Some call them wounds I call them scars
for that is what they always become.
Acknowledging the existence of bleeding wounds,
is the hardest thing to do
for one has to accept that the illusion came to an end.
Acceptance brings pain, mirrors reflecting facts
staring back at your face.
No more lies or justification
just pure acceptance of a present state of anguish.
Choosing from a palette of means to ease the pain
self-delusion was the easiest but most expensive game.
Awakening and growing in the light of altered perception
makes the affliction endurable to a certain measure.
The worst is the self-doubt and questions
that have no acceptable answers
for your heart and mind are now seeing
all the contradictions of past believing.
The process of healing is a subtle flow of
pain and despair,
self-delusion, while numbing the pain,
lots of tears, depression, and melancholy
while coming to terms with the new reality.
Awareness of yourself and your needs,
acceptance of a new set of beliefs.
It takes time for a mindset to change,
to rise from the ashes of a world
we once clinged to.
I tried, so many times to put into words
the abyss of despair I fell into when
everything I knew and believed crashed before me.
Even now I can’t, not like this, not every time
to find peace and meaning in the remains of one life.
It still hurts, tears start running down my face
at most unexpected times.
It surfaces, triggered by a sight, a song, or a smell,
I feel strong and I moved on but the scars are here to stay.
It’s not about living in the past,
it’s about accepting that I was blind.
Beliefs and perception were not my own,
I was moulded by society and its norms
Like most, I blended and dwelled.
Rebelling in ways that scared me,
within myself feeling that it’s wrong, but holding on.
For love, we were told we will endure it all,
but no one ever told us, that not every love is good for us.
The wounds that I’m wearing, reflect my victories,
over myself and the world,
over the stars and the moon.
In time, they will stop bleeding
but I will never fully heal
for something inside of me
still can’t accept that
Maybe true acceptance will come in time,
for rationally I see it was out of my hands,
but there is much more here than a sum of facts,
it’s my heart and all the love I poured into one lifetime.
After all, I must say, I love my scars
every and each one of them.
They made me who I am,
and I love myself.