I am writing not out of depression, but with faith. I am not who I thought I would be. This is not me, the past has sought. There is a nagging feeling that gnaws deep inside. I am not the one I see in the mirror. The weak hearted fool. An Illusion of grandeur. A spitting image of foolish betrayal of validity. I am the parallel of the one I see in the eye’s perspective. Uncertainty has dulled me. Confusion delves deep. But I know now.
This is not the real life of what is. A dismembered painting of a whole piece. Only seeing the crack of light. A light that does not give justice to the whole body of origin. A reflection, distorted to hue of truth. (more…)