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)

An Ode to Her Soul

The soul of her existence inspired life in me.

The energy of her presence reminded me of the true meaning of life’s quarrels.

Her unique aura reminded me of a time when chaos and harmony clashed together to create beautiful and wicked life as it once was before.

Her doubts and insecurities reminded me that we’re all just humans full of emotions which I may never fully understand and will never completely appreciate.

But my manhood is the compliment of her womanhood. Her soul is the Yin and my mind is the Yang. Her ethereal being is the light to my darker reality which I will never show her. Her blossoming life force is what attracts people to gather together and become happier. My life force reminds people of the necessary harshness of our natural world and order.

My coarse hands interlace with her soft and reassuring palms. Her existence is both significant to me and a nuisance. For she is both as necessary as the air we breathe; and ironically so, she is also the metaphorical pain in my heart reminding me that we must deal with emotions even if we wish emotions could just disappear.

Her emotional intelligence far exceeds my mathematical mindset. Her natural intuition senses things I’ll never see. In contrast, the man’s perception of the physical life we live will never quite phase her own life force. For her heart is beyond the physical manifestations of our being. Woman is not of bleak reality. No, she is of boundless creativity ready to burst open at the seams with unapologetic life.

Yet she also has a strange way of keeping me grounded when I begin to try and live past the physical manifestation of this existence. For I will never know the world a woman lives in; and I’ve accepted that I am okay with such a truth.

I will never know her secrets, her wisdom, her thoughts, or her own personal desires for a truly balanced life.

But in that same regard, she will never know the secrets I know, the adventures I go on, or the memories created. She will never know the many loves of my life. For even though she is a huge part of my life- she isn’t my entire life. I appreciate her existence and presence, but I also must have my own space just as much as she needs hers.

I feel selfish, and I wish I didn’t feel this way.

But life is about the golden memories we create, not the overarching society. It’s about enduring through the pains and heartache and remembering that as a man, I can’t afford to stop and remorse for lost loved ones.

For the same society that hinders her personal freedoms, also forbids my emotions and thoughts. For she may not realize it yet; but her existence far exceeds my own. She is the bearer of all human life, and I am merely a man. A man who can certainly do great things; but does not care for pandering to the society which holds us all back.

For I champion not my own success, but the success of brighter and smarter individuals. We are all faced with adversity, and in this ever-changing world full of automation and machine; I have reverted back to being human. I have been reminded of the true world of possibilities and imagination once again. It rests with humans, not with machines.

Through these last couple of years, I’ve come to realize that a woman’s life is full of so many interesting, sad, funny, horrifying, amazing, unique, and miscellaneous moments. Her existence is one of pure good and evil. She lives knowing the truth of our being, knowing that humans are her children to raise. To know that the world will one day take her children’s innocence away without her consent or forewarning. She knows that all of her loved ones will fade away, and one day, she will find herself alone and reminded of our boring, bleak, and uneventful reality.

But unlike man; she will also have her own secret memories to cherish forevermore through time immemorial.

And moreover, she still has purpose in her life. She will guide the hand of the misguided, the abandoned, and the forgotten. For she will remain steadfast in her judgment of what’s truly right and what is wickedly wrong. For even though my own judgment may be clouded by unchanging circumstances a man must go trough in his life; she will fight with a voice mightier than any lion; louder than any howling wind, and more potent than any poison. For her words sting the hardest, grow the thickest, and blossom the brightest. For she has a way with her presence that sways me to secretly believe her every word. Love has a funny way of blinding a man from otherwise obvious signs of danger or misgivings.

I know she will never truly understand a man’s world – but at the end of the day, as long as we both know that our love burns brightly in this small moment in time; then I can live with the fact that we may never see each other again.

My days are filled with meaning only because of her joy. My sorrows only exist because of her true and feigned emotions. My heart only beats due to the boundless love and bottomless anger she makes me feel at times. It’s passion, and I don’t know what I would do without her love. I would find another, and another, and another. For I could never live without a woman’s love. A woman’s love is the purest form of love there is in the world. She may not realize it right now, but her heart and her thoughts are what makes this world magical again.

We see eye-to-eye and understand that we will forever be at-odds. She understands we have roles to play; temporary parts to a fading play. She knows that this lifetime is short, so she makes the best of her days. I may have just realized my own mortality; but she knew of death the moment she realized she could create life.

I could go on about my admiration and amazement at woman’s existence; but I won’t. I know she understands our existential manifestation, and our never-ending love for passion. She knows man is nothing with woman, and in that same regard- even if she never voices it; she understands that life would be meaningless without man’s toil and aggression.

But in the end, when the curtains of this fading play finally drape down at the end; I will die knowing that I’ll never find another one of her. She was my first love, and she’ll forever be my last.

 

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

 

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