return to release

In this world where distance is slowly being dwarfed by information, and cultures diluted by dissemination, our cognizance of identity is becoming less endemic and more assimilative. Like lofty mists sublimating into the summer dawn, we lose ourselves into the frivolity of existence. Of merely sufficing to be, rather than to become, easily falling prey to the heed of collective hysterics than to define one’s own valuations. In this horrid and hurried renaissance of progressive obsession, truth is a filament flexibly weaved. And our truth, despite the myriad combinatorics of being, often is skewed by the consciousness we inhabit.

So I seek to return to the primordial, to re-commune with the earth that birthed me. From whose bountiful loins I am made and of, and into its chasms I must cast my deepest disappointments, like Zoroastrian effigies into the dusk of defiance. And by its gaping abyss I seek oblivion. That grail of the heart that stills the agitated, and contains the overwhelmed. The gift of release.

Tonight I shall kiss the earth. And ask to be healed.



Image from here.