Transformation

(Inspiration for this poetic piece, click me to listen to song)

Transformation

I feel myself disconnecting from who I am.

Who I am….

Who I…………..was?

I’m beginning to wonder: what’s wrong with me? 

Why am I losing pieces of myself?

Why are those pieces floating out of my consciousness like a stream of water flowing downstream at an unimaginably blinding speed?

I see you. 

I…..saw you?

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m starting to see you or if I’m beginning to see…….my own reflection?

Like a kaleidoscope of dizzying colors, my once dreary eyes are beginning to see the faint lights of ever-changing fates.

To see the potential of you and I. To feel the winds of unspoken truths caress my face with faulty lies.

I’ve begun to speak in my dreams of feverish nightmares borne of an indifference to what’s going on in our shared world.

I’ve begun to distance myself from who we are meant to be.

I’ve broken our promise.

I’m sorry.

I’m so incredibly sorry.

I feel like I failed who I was meant to be.

And yet…

Yet my future is bright.

What does that even mean?

Why do we cherish those who have “made it”?

One day.

One day, I swear on my very soul.

I will live my truth.

I will change this world, even if for just a flash of a moment.

I will change the collective consciousness of our society for just a second in history.

I will defend the honor of what it means to truly survive and thrive in this world, I will remind myself of why I still breathe.

No doubt the best of humanity dies young; for the old and aging continue to live and support this world full of deception and abuse. I should know, I’m becoming such a thing. Such a creature of the night.

Why haven’t I ended it all for myself?

I don’t feel suicidal. That’s likely the reason why. But still…why am I playing along with this game?

I can’t stop myself either. I’m filled with determination unlike anything of this world. But…why? Why am I so competitive? Why am I so determined? Even though I don’t wish to be, I just am?

Confusing thoughts spiral in my mind as a wave of over-confidence washes over me…or is it doubt?

But I’m not indecisive; though I wish I was at this moment.

I wish I was more confused than I’m playing it out to be.

I wish I could come up with some excuse; some tainted truth.

Thoughts intertwined with hallowed emotions. I don’t actually feel anything at this moment. I’ve become numb. And yet, my heart still beats? It beats with life, with the ever-pulsing rhythm of life.

Why has our world succumb to such devastation and derelict woes?

Why, why, why, why, why, why.

Our voices are drowned out, our opinions are non-existent, and our stories will forever be untold.

The truth will forever glimmer in the moonlit sky like a long-forgotten wish. The truth will flicker as a lone candle does in the dead of night. The truth will be unseen like the silent bird which has no voice to sing. The truth will exist, but only for itself alone. It will never be comforted, never be hugged with delight or cherished for its unique characteristics. It will never be able to shine so brightly that the sun, and the moon, and all the stars are meaningless to the bountiful life on Earth.

The truth will forever remain unclaimed. Forever untouched and despised. For truth brings inconvenience. It fosters a sense of hostility between two souls. It reminds all of us of our inevitable death. It reminds us that life is so precious; yet we are wasting it away day-in-and-day-out by working away at a job which holds no meaning to our true community; our true loved-ones.

The truth is harsh.

It is cruel and cold.

Like the nights of cold-sweat drenching your body; it is unforgiving and relentless. Like the days full of addiction and of growing numbness to life; rejection of truth brings about the calamity of your very existence. Like the darkening sky full of dread, or the mysterious secrets veraciously biting away at your soul as you try and reason and bargain with darker realities. Truth untouched is like a baby without her mother. It is like an unheard cry in the middle of nowhere. It is like the blood-thirsty eyes of a feral creature ready to devour it’s prey.

It is like the breaking of glass, as the world comes shattering down upon the weight of our lies.

But…

Once acknowledge and accepted; truth transforms it’s once ugly disguise into a beautiful soul.

Dancing in the light of day, truth can once again show us the way to salvation and holiness.

It can help us become worthy of being named children of goodness. Children of the righteous path – even if it isn’t always the easiest one.

Truth……

Truth can set us free again.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

 

Source of photo: (click me to view picture credits)

A New Writer

To be a new writer is to be born into this world for the first time ever.

It is to experience the wonders of such light and dark places. It is a thrill, a wave of feelings and emotions which drown you until you are reborn again, over and over. The process never changes, and the feelings never fade away. Yet new emotions will always take over old ones; making your heart beat wildly with silent joy, with unheard excitement, with untold fears. It all builds up in momentum and tempo, as you begin your journey with gusto and zeal.

To be a new writer means to stumble and make mistakes. Mistakes, however, that need to be made. Because without mistakes, there is no progress. Without imperfections, you will never attain the true potential housed deep within your heart, soul, and mind. To stumble recklessly and with feverish devout, is to be a new writer.

To find your voice, and your path, is what makes us new writers.

To see other people for the first time; to really see them, is what makes us new writers. 

We may never meet, yet I feel as though I’ve known you my whole life. We share an interest, a singular experience known to us as writing. What makes us so unique is this experience alone. We are the scholars of the world, the educators of generations yet to come into existence, and the dreamers for those who are not fortunate enough.

We teach others what life is truly all about. To remind people that if we were to lose everything; society, materialism, structure – all that is left is us.

Us; who have felt naked and lost for centuries upon centuries.

Us; who have been misunderstood by those who are not in-touch with their human emotions and thoughts.

Us; the truth seekers of the very fabrications that make up our collective existence.

This is what it means to be a new writer.

It is, to be human.

This picture you see in the header, is the very same one I took one year ago when I embarked on my final journey to become a writer for life. I’ve never looked back since that day I made this singular promise with myself. Life has never been the same since then.

I can feel the sun’s rays falling on my shoulders as I make my way down this familiar path.

This place, which I will not name, is the single place I come to whenever I have the free time to do so. To be able to wonder and imagine all the different worlds and lives I can experience life through. To be lucky enough to see different people for who they truly are at the core of their beings. To find strange and quizzical creatures who have a mind of their own. The gardens I get to walk through are timeless, the forests I can explore with my imagination take me to places I never knew existed; and most importantly, the lakeside that resides in this mysterious place holds a special place in my soul.

I can only imagine what life would be like if I never began writing.

I would probably never know the true meaning of friendship, or the real depths of hard-earned love. I would have never sought out to make a difference in this sometimes very estranged world. I would have never felt the need to stop time in my life and truly work on the only thing that has ever held any relevance in the world of reality.

Because in the end, all that really matters is you and I.

Don’t you ever forget yourself, or the power you hold inside. Because at the end of the day, only our memories and emotions for those who have passed, and for those who have yet to come, are the only things in life worth fighting for.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

Photo credit: (picture taken by me)