An Interlude


I once was told there was a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow. After the melancholy of a cloudy rain, and the natures inhabitants were out once more in the world we all share together by our planet Earth, cities, states & countries. Returning to what is seen as normal and civilized. I remember being like that so vividly. Where my feet could tread, I would go. Where my bones could take me, I would roam.

     Running, running, to reach a never end. I didn't want it to end. A continuous illusions game I would play with only myself as a divergent. Was I a child then? Does it matter when I still tempt myself to go? Instead, I can runaway in my car, driving for miles, running out all the gas in my car; all I need is an open road with zero destination but my imagination; I just want to get away. From what? From the hag, the people, the problems from daily life; perceived and non-perceived. It's a just a game, a distraction from completing what I know would set me free.

     The medicine is tough to create when it's for one's own soul, the antidote is bitter to swallow when it knows one's own sickness and it's difficult to be consistent when getting better is destroying the barriers of where it hurts the most. But I face fears in others constantly. Healing them, giving them medicine and watching them cut, bleed, scab and heal for me and themselves. I see strength in them, I witness them get better whether they admit or not and that also helps me get better from being in such a potent presence.

     Such as a hospital or a therapy session in or out of a mental institution; where the outside world doesn't matter only getting well from what the outside world took away...Sometimes not to give back to the Earth. Broken cycles of nature. Broken relationships, broken promises, broken people - yet, that cycles continue of hurt people hurt people. When will it end? When cycles of torment seize? Let nature be a cycle with the seasons. Let age take it's course. Life, death, rebirth. Is that all a soul is suppose to do? Surely not!  Let the soul be birth within the body, die after karma or hardship to be rebirthed into the higher self of consciousness, while still living. 

     Oh, the vices to escape from what is tangibly created and easily destroyed the same. Why must people hate themselves? No, why must people hate themselves from what they created? I noticed a returning measure of what is possible which is something that can destroy the individual itself. From drugs, robots, bombs & missiles, mental illnesses and sick low demented pleasures. Coping mechanisms. Power to regain the eco systems and be the all knowing, all living actual humankind made God. A concept of which is created by the human mind. Dazzle in its own reflection of what's real or not, tangible and seen. This is how the world operates. A rhetoric of is what it is...or is it?

   I can't heal anyone if all is sugar coated and laced with a numbing depressant. Only downers to soothe the anxiety of the unknown. Only added uppers to keep the seems from bursting with too much pressure. I can't be healed by denying what is wrong with myself... I can however begin with  myself which I have. Being mindful of where I'm extra sensitive (and sometimes it's hard to actually admit this.) and vulnerable.

     Guarding myself from exposing too much of what could set me array of my centered inner mantras of peace. Where solitude doesn't become excessive silence. And being social isn't a need to conform and lose interest in myself.. Although that can be very beautiful, to mold into the surroundings without having to analyze why and what of what is disliked or liked about myself or others. Just be.

     I remember wanting to find the gold at the end of a rainbow. Where my legs couldn't take me, I allowed the corner less spectrums of a mind soar to reach a place that is between a mirage and surreality. I faintly see the blackened kettle glistening in the sun and it is heartily overflowing, just for me. I smile for a moment, then back neutral. Being rich.. What is that? What am I suppose to do with this gold. In my mind I would just look at it. Untouched. I guess finding it took the thrill of actually attaining it. It was the adventure of it, the journey of being able. I just wanted to be able to roam without restraints.. Without a city, a state, a country. Sometimes without a name to call myself. Just being abled


Just be.


- Eden Marquis, The High Priestess