By James Greenshields
I begin, childish and heroic of mind. Happy, eager and excited to be seen and to affect.
Soon I become lost, confused and scared. I know not what is sacred and steel my heart.
I know not who I am, why I have come, what I am meant to give.
Collapse is inevitable, necessary, yet I fight it with all my might.
Might exhausts for it emerges from my separate self.
I am tired.
I harbour adversarial eyes and compete against to validate my place justifying through egoic speeches of legacy.
I claim ownership over anything and everything I feel identifies me as a man, yet this fickleness has stained my very core.
I attach myself to people, groups, things in a vain attempt to belong. Without knowing me, I become them. They fuel me. I need them. I fear rejection for they are my fuel, my identity, my all.
I am numb.
The hollowness is too large to ignore, it grows like a never ending night; the eyes of the dark witch haunt my dreams. Death is coming and I know my heart will not survive judgement against the feather.
Death speaks volumes in its silence. It looks, sees all, a necessary reflection.
I must die.
The phoenix takes it’s last breath and combusts.
The fire is intense; fuelled by the winds of change.
I find something within; a strength; a metal; a passion.
Assisted by resistance; friction and turbulence;
In the throws of the dying serpent, I seize my will from the dark witch.
I am born anew.
I stand forged from within, assisted from without.
I am alive.
In owning my not enoughness, I surrender my services to the whole and adopt my position in the collective.
Anger has been purified to passion; fear to excitement;
Love now fuels my fire.
I stand in a love that cannot be rejected for it holds no attachment.
I see through the veil of Isis to Truth and act accordingly.
I protect no one, yet my core will resonate with many emanating an inner power that creates surety; a knowingness; a certainty.
I belong to the collective with the strength to stand alone or amongst.
My value is no longer my DOing, but my BEing.
I alone give myself permission; I am the Author of my Ship
Honour is my guide to the higher planes; my gift, given and received.
They may think of me what they will; I know Who I Am; What I stand for and have mastered my expression.
I have found my Home Tree.
I am a Man.
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