Can I tell you a story? It isn't quite like the rest. There is no knight in shining armor, or lovely princess to save. There is only a life with questions beyond the answering capacity of a feeble world. A story of the ever present magic that surrounds us. Discovered too late by too many.
Ever since I was a boy, the only memories I have been able to carry with me were those of an other worldly sense. Some may just call it a vivid imagination, but I never quite saw it that way. Yes, I was a creative child, and quite wise for my young age. It was often said of me that I embodied an old, kindred spirit. Something that I partly detested growing up. I lived reclusively inside my mind. Mystified by what laid beyond the realm of possibilities. I could talk to animals with ease, but my tongue would freeze when a human asked my name. The trees would sing to me stories carried in from the eastern seas. Each fallen leaf holding inside of it a tale waiting to be told. Every stone on the riverbed chiseled through the relentless force of time, holding within itself the integrity of an eternity’s worth of history and knowing. Even how the sun would shine on certain days could bring an unknown song to my skin. This was beyond my imaginative possibilities. This was something real.
We all carry gifts from our ancestors. Gifts and traits passed down through blood and sweat. Generations worth of evolutionary adjustments, built inside of our minds, waiting to be lit by that spark of curiosity. Our bodies are receptors to every unseen energy force around us. Still, it seemed that nobody could see, or smell, or feel what I felt when a foreign wind would drift by. The ominous feeling it would sometimes leave in my chest. Like a dagger hurled from the direction of bad news, whatever it may be. On better days, the breeze would lift up under my hair, whispering poems full of joyful beauty. I can still feel the touch of the grass near my old tree fort in the woods. Delicate blades upon my palms. Tickling into it the roots of the land, and all who have traveled it before, connecting with the roots of my bloodstream. My mind didn’t wander into words, merely a melody of emotions, and stories that can be told in less than an instant. One touch. One glance is all it takes to transfer a story.
From just a look into her eyes, those golden halos, tattered with playful green streaks, a year’s worth of running swept through my body. A year’s worth of pain. A year’s worth of hopeless searching. Hidden behind a deceptively lovely mask. The way her lips sharpened into a soft smile, all too elegant to be seen as any way other than lovely and enticing. Still, even a master of disguise cannot hide what truly lies behind their stories when a seer looks into their eyes. What lies inside is always transparent through the window of the soul. I was merely cursed with the gift of understanding. Cursed with the ability to see, and feel, and communicate, without ever saying a word. For years I hid behind this fear. Hid behind this crippling social construct that I can’t seem to break into. Instead choosing to stay silent in the shadows. The pain it brings to understand the heart of every passing soul, and feel every piece of a hurting world was too crippling to be around. Every modern face has become well-rehearsed at hiding behind fake smiles, and witty words. Hiding the fact that our hearts are broken. But faces lie, and words can be twisted. The twitch of a finger, or swelling of the pupils will tell you more truth than words ever could.
Our world has become more connected than ever, yet we have only used that access to find our differences, further dividing ourselves. Our home, the one true source that unites us all, is under attack by its sole defender. It’s time to open your eyes. All three of them. It’s time to relearn, and rebuild what we are truly capable of. This is no time for hiding.
We are farmers. Meant to cultivate and protect the earth. We are business men. Meant to create goods and services for the betterment of all life. We are creators of good, and light. Still, we kill the power that gives us the ability to carry on. To feel every heart so suppressed is painful. To gain understanding into the true nature of all things, and to understand how to live and let live is The Forever Endeavor. We are the ailment, and the cure to a shattered world.