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)

Gaining New Perspectives in Life

When you write, a lot of the times there are many different angles to look at any given situation you’re focused on. Whether you’re writing a non-fiction or fiction book, you’ll usually find yourself wondering which way is the best manner in which to start or view your topic of choice. It’s always important to see something from multiple viewpoints, you never want to look at a piece of writing and wonder what the purpose behind it is.

Yet this post isn’t about writing. No, it’s about the new perspectives gained through being more aware of your environment (both imagined and real).

Some of the best methods of gaining a new perspective in your life is to imagine what your own experience would be like in a different person’s position. Better yet, you can also imagine what the world must feel like on a daily basis. Just imagine what the life of a mouse must be like. Or even how the sound of a clock ticks while an empty house remains silent amidst a time of vast uncertainty. The possibilities are endless with this type of thinking.

There’s no end to creativity, the only limit is yourself. Never be too afraid, always question the validity of a person, a situation, or even the state of our world. The more you start to question, the more you begin to realize that everything in life is permitted. With this viewpoint, you can better understand a lot of the current world affairs in today’s globalized society.

A defining moment in any person’s life, is characterized by a sense of awakening, or even a sense of understanding herself/himself in the world and where they stand in it. It can be a truly humbling, and sometimes even terrifying, realization when you begin to understand and come to terms with a lot of the realities of our existence and what it even means to be human in this ever-changing environment. To grasp your own identity is the single best thing you can ever do, not only for yourself, but for those around you who truly love you and cherish you for who you are as a human being in the world.

On a more transparent note, I want to let you know, that perspective also helps you to heighten your sense of awareness of the crueler fates amidst our globalized world. Because in some manner, you will realize that even if you’re just one person in a sea of others, you can change the world (even if it is at a micro-level, it’s still very significant in the grander scheme of life). Your actions, especially during times of hardship and uncertainty in your society, can help to further strengthen the bonds and connections you have with those around you.

Perspective of different people, different life-forms, and different ideologies, is probably the best tool to have if you are a writer. You’re able to understand so many otherwise mysterious concepts in mainstream society. You’re able to better analyze why something happened, and the many different things that caused it.

It’s kind of like being a detective, but the only thing is, no one in the entire world knows you’re paying attention.

If you choose to be naïve or willingly ignorant, I cannot judge you. I used to judge people on being ignorant, back when I was a teenager. But now that I’m an adult, I’ve come to understand that everything (and I mean everything) has a reason for being the way it is; and those things don’t necessarily change as quickly as they should. Some things can stay the “same” for a very, very long time. Inevitably, however, things do change. Whether it be in minutes, hours, days, months, years, centuries, or a millennia – everything eventually succumbs to change.

I could go on, but my time is limited today. I have a lot of work to do, and so little time to finish it. If anything, I’ll leave you with one simple thought: hold the deepest parts of yourself close to your soul, but also let the world see a part of who you truly are. In this way, you can better build your own personality through the different tribulations and trials out there in our shared environment.

After all, we show only the parts of ourselves which we want the world to see. Ultimately, this is what makes perspective so fascinating and intriguing. Different perspectives are the only hidden truth worth discovering in this estranged and chaotic world.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

Arkanim: Tales of the Enlightened Ones

Hello everyone! It’s me R.S. Noel coming to you with another post. For today, I’m going to make it short and also provide another excerpt from Arkanim: Tales of the Enlightened Ones. This is another work-in-progress book that I’ve been writing for a while now. To be honest, this is the very first work-in-progress book I had originally started on when I was young. But through the years, growing-up got the better of me, and I had put this story aside.

Now, however, it’s come into my life once again.

 

The following is a work-in-progress by me, R.S. Noel. I hold and maintain all the rights for the work presented below. Thank you for your interest and understanding. Enjoy!:

 

It was growing. All around her, she could hear the sounds of light footsteps, of silent windy whispers gliding through the jungle’s vines, of the many different sounds of nature that were now engulfing the foreigners. Rhea couldn’t distinguish between what noise belonged to a human and what noise belonged to the wild life of these unruly jungles.

There was no doubt in her mind that they were being watched closely, it was only a matter of time before something immensely uncertain happened.

Rhea could hear Merthus beginning to breath slightly faster now as the boy had undoubtedly noticed the subtle changes in the Flurrus Jungle as well. Rhea wished at this very moment that she could just comfort the small child, but she knew that it was hopeless to even pretend that everything was all right. She knew that they just needed to survive through this experience. Their lives had become nothing more than the basic instinct of survival. Nothing else mattered; just their willpower to make it out of this mess alive.

Moving a bit quicker through the narrow path they were walking upon, Rhea could tell that Zante was increasingly growing worried as he appeared to turn his head slightly left and right from time to time. Rhea knew that the man was surely trying to figure out if the hidden Urksinians were going to show themselves right now or not.

She knew now at this very moment that Zante Qitzo truly did care for their wellbeing. If Rhea had any doubts before, they were put to rest as her eyes maintained a steady gaze on the back of Zante’s head. This was the only thing that Rhea could manage to look at, as she feared trying to avert her gaze even slightly away towards the noises that were only continuing to grow around her. It would only serve to bring more trouble to them.

In the distance from this curving road riddled with dark soil, Rhea could see two large arching gates that were closed shut. She could not see beyond that point, as there appeared to be plenty of large vines and roots covering the otherwise visible sight of the village certainly behind the gates.

Some of Rhea’s hair covered her face lightly now, as a tailwind swept to the left side of her. She knew that this was no natural occurrence. Her eyes grew wide with fascination. Someone was running unimaginably fast now behind the veil of the thick jungle life to her left. Rhea did not dare to remove her hair from her face, as she now looked dead straight ahead without even entertaining the thought that she could look elsewhere. Her eyes were wide with paralyzed fear. She knew her inner fear was showing, and she cursed very silently underneath her breath as she wished for nothing else but to hide such vulnerable emotions.

It was without question that Rhea, Merthus, and Dasca were simply not welcomed here. Even before she had seen any of the Urksinians within the village of Kinkuly itself, Rhea was now starting to understand the workings of different people from different parts of the world.

As the group neared closer to the heavily vegetated gates that surely led into the village of Kinkuly, Rhea could see four guardsmen standing ever so silently amongst the vines. Rhea had not seen them before, and likely because they were wearing armor that was the same shade of green as the verdant gates. She was in awe at how unmoving they were, better than statues. Certainly the messenger that Zante had sent ahead of them had let these guardsmen know that they were nearing the village. And by they, Rhea knew she was thinking more along the lines of Dasca, Merthus, and herself.

Gorgirians were not exactly on friendly terms with Urksinians.

Rhea could feel the intensity of those behind her, as she momentarily shut her eyes to allow her fears to subside just a little more.

Then, that’s when it happened.

Jumping from the many trees that were grouped tightly together on both sides of the narrow path – came down about nine native Urksinians. They all appeared intimidating and full of untapped energy. Most of them were men, broad shouldered and towering in size. About two of them were Urksinian women, still equally intimidating with their bulging muscles and unfamiliar physiques.

Yet it was one of the Urksinian men that started to walk straight up to Zante that really caught Rhea’s fearful attention. This man had the broadest of shoulders amongst the newfound Urksinians, thick arms the size of tree trunks, and powerful legs that could likely crush even a newborn gorgus.

He landed squarely in front of Zante as he stared at the man with an unflinching gaze that appeared to bulge out with deep hatred. “Zante Qitzovena’lu hega nemno qora-dod belsion!” [Zante Qitzo…you’ve come back home with slaves in tow!].

Though Rhea had no idea what this unknown new man had just said, she could tell Zante was guarding any sign of emotions as he responded back clearly and with a deepened voice. “Jersde leme’neleno, cirlee; nem belsion.” [They are foreigners, guests; not slaves].

 

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

 

Source of Photo: (Click Me to View Photo 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)