Ignorance.

I search the playgrounds of my past, distraught, hoping to locate the innocence I somehow lost.  I grieve for the little boy that believed mankind was inherently good.  In my rush to grow up, I raced through my childhood, though I now hunger for the purity that I shed too soon, replaced by the maturity which I had misunderstood.  Once I was exposed to the evil that has always coexisted in the world, my heart hardened unwilling to accept that I was now a flightless bird.  Subjected to abuse in every form, I began to think that I was solely capable of being scorned.  I would bathe in the hopes that my disdain would be swallowed by the drain; my contempt corroded my faith in humanity, as I allowed myself to be overcome by the darkness inside of me.  Instances of injustice around the world threw me over the edge, as I mourned for my innocence that was now dead.  Powerless, I conformed to the ugliness that surrounded me, hostility and hatred worked hand in hand to devour me behind the scenes.  I became a product of my perceived environment, lashing out with anger at anyone that pleaded for me to let them in.  The fire in my heart raged on destroying everything that got in its way; my conflict with myself escalated into a war with many casualties.  My soul was restless as it tried many times to escape, desperate for the innocence I left behind so long ago.   Estranged from love, I was now barren yet my ire continued to grow.  My infertile mind refused to fathom that any semblance of good could possibly remain despite all of the famine, greed and disease by which our hearts were stained.   Imprisoned by my inability to admit that good and bad were subjective terms, I obsessed about the extinction of morality and ethics.  Hypnotized by the media’s propagated portrayal of the disastrous and tragic, I was inconsolable as I questioned whether our problems would ever be fixed.  Suddenly I heard a voice as faint as falling snow reminding me to look deeper and find the helpers.  Incredulous that my conscience had stayed despite my relentless desire for detriment, I accepted its advice and set out in search of evidence that beauty still remained.  On my quest for good, I became amazed by foreign aides that emanated love like saints; humbled by humanitarians and helpers united by their desire to end world pain.  Grasping tightly onto these glimmers of light that illuminated the dark, my blackened heart was slowly becoming vibrant as I witnessed acts of unconditional love.  Through terrorism and torture, trials and torment, there was still love and light though good was overlooked replaced by tragedy.  With every disaster, I remember that there are always altruists that aim to ease the endless sorrow; with every evil act, many unite to ensure it is the last.    The innocence I lost made me wiser in the end, as it equipped me with the same objectivity that I employ with family, foe or friend.

Asceticism.

With each breath it becomes clearer that I have only now just started to live, ungrateful for so long, each day arrived and left with my unwillingness to accept that one of them could be my last.  I lived in the playgrounds of my past and in the fantasies of my future as though the present was a hindrance to the dreams of days that may never even arrive.  On auto-pilot as I raced towards false notions of success, failing to appreciate the beauty passing by in my rear view.  The gift of life, itself, was collecting dust from neglect forgotten on a shelf, ignored as I chased material possessions that I believed would define my worth. Mansions and Mercedes revered more than nature in all its glory, as the pages of my life were filled with greed, until encountering the worst and best of humanity helped me rewrite my story.  Seeing third world poverty up close helped wake me up, as I was conditioned to think having nothing was a tragedy; until I looked closer and realized that devoid of wealth, these people were far happier than the richest men that I have met.  We are programmed to reach higher, strive for more even when our cup is overflowing; this ideology breeds an endless cycle of dissatisfaction.  Never happy because we are taught to try harder than we already have, we begin to self-destruct under the incredible weight of inadequacy.  We idealize the elite for the fortunes they have amassed, and criticize the weak for the success they seem to lack.  Asceticism is no match for the American dream that is in reality a nightmare, the false promise of wealth for all leaves us oppressed and unhappy.  I was merely content for far too long, fixated on fame at any cost; the reminder of my own mortality through loss was all it took to remind me of the many ways in which I am blessed.  To forget the miracle of life, that we essentially die every night to be revived by the sunlight or that every atom inside of me has a purpose that my ego chose to deny.  The only guarantee we have is that our hearts will one day beat no more, each new day that I am revived fills me with awe and gratitude for having been reborn.

Infidelity.

Once a player always a player, they say, as though repeating this sentiment somehow makes it true. Similarly, old dogs and new tricks are a match made in Hell. It then becomes no surprise that so many of us fail, as society centres on concepts that leave little room for repentance. Why would a leopard attempt to change when its spots are permanent, when it can just resign to its fate instead? Change can only occur when coupled with a desire so strong it could move mountains. Growth is possible if we accept our flaws and then still humbly strive to blossom. We are reminded so often that we cannot transcend that this self-fulfilling prophecy leaves little room to make amends.  The cowardice of cheaters is worse than any other disease, in that it ravages trust so badly that it could reduce even the hardest stones to dust.  The focus is misplaced as every part of the act itself is scrutinized, when the antecedents or emotions involved are ignored, as though they are unworthy of being analyzed.  As someone who has been unfaithful in the past, I can attest that the razor sharp guilt that comes with it results in too many sleepless nights.  The fights that develop could all have been avoided if communication had not died, if only the flame of love had stayed alive.  We ultimately decide whether we want to stray from honesty, the masters of our own domains, we have the choice to honour our promise of monogamy.  The social death that occurs from the act is akin to being excommunicated; as though, isolation is the only way for our sin to be redeemed.  A witch hunt of sorts ensues whose only goal is execution as if we must be burned at the stake for being unable to learn from our mistakes.  Evolution has been proven if we can break free from the prison of our own thoughts; life has provided us with a wonderful opportunity to learn.  I will not be broken by the disproval of peers or society as I have learned to rise above, opting to change my ways instead.  Free from the reins of dishonesty, I have reached a level of bliss that my past could never have achieved.  I am inaccessible to infidelity as the examination of my suffering showed me the path to righteousness.  Honesty is now the only foundation upon which I would ever build a home, as openness in love and life rarely result in hearts broken by lascivious lust.  Society chastised me by perpetuating proverbs that wanted for me to fail; my resilience on my journey to understand myself is what finally helped me prevail.   

Incognito.

Driving through the streets with my windows tinted, I wish you would notice me but it’s like I don’t exist.  Incognito though I need you more every time I remain ignored, unable to break free from feeling anonymous.  Hidden from the world, like I reside behind a veil with little chance to grow; I just want to be loved.  A dream for me is for my name to escape from your lips, for you to acknowledge the hurt that I have within.  Vying for your attention like a child devoid of love or autonomy, your apathy is unfounded as I beg and plead for you to become aware of me.  My heart breaks every night after accepting that you do not care, drowning in my own self-loathing; my lungs struggle for air without you here.  Your acceptance, somehow, means more to me than myself; I have lost the will to breathe, knowing you has become the only cure for my disease.  I wake up every day aspiring to hear you say my name, then die a thousand deaths when nothing changes and inexplicably remains the same.   Resigned to a future without you by my side, I am forced to be satisfied with merely being alive.  Lost amongst the shadows, I will haunt you from afar; my desperation runs its course now, there is no hope left for me to be your shining star.  With hollow faith, I write my name and place it into the Wailing Wall, with a prayer that the universe responds through you before time turns into regret.  It will only be too late if my efforts were all in vain, and when our lives have both passed us by without you ever possessing the power unlocked by uttering my name.  Sand slipping through fingertips is just as slow as time measured in an hourglass, yet each moment feels too long because each one could be my last.  Through it all, the thought of you keeps my spirit alive and burning strong, it will all be worth it when my name becomes your song.