FRAGMENTS

He Is Mind

It doesn’t take a genius to see that we are just subjects to the forces that are constantly balancing the figures of utter existence. Slaves to the immovable objects right in front of us, caged in the zoo of our memories that slowly ooze back in Deja Vu forms. Life is just happening, right here, right now, in front of our eyes and we can’t move back to rewrite the scriptures of our broken souls. Can it be fixed? The needle and thread, where is the needle…where is the thread?

A heart of stone, not easily eroded by the whirling wind, they call it growth when we finally regain our strength after we face the crippling realities. Physically untamed but mentally degenerated, they said we needed spiritual redemption. We became selfish with time because time itself is selfish with us, we rather give it all to the greatest artist above…the bone of our bones, the flesh of our flesh… the renewal of our spirits. With a special halo, he crowned us and all this agony and misery disappeared, for once, we were at peace with ourselves, forever at peace. Still empty, no voices here, hear? He thinks, He writes…He thinks, He writes more. He is Mind.