We are free to choose so much more than we imagine or even consider possible.
To first turn inward toward self seems a required search for meaning, yet, within this hall of mirrors I found no liberation, only the enmity of my flaws.
Flaws that with forgiveness become the wounds of memorial to a former self. Fading, fearful incarnation, trapped in the desperate isolation of self, both cause and refuge from the fear. Locked within mind, habitually seeking to sculpt into reality a certainty of understanding, to know, to hold, to grasp.
Never becoming, never unfolding. With each approach of freedom too terrifying even to perceive. Until, peeling away the veil of identity, behind the protection of delusion I found such pain that I never thought possible. The pain of the boy that I was, the pain I had been running from for all of my life.
I had no place else to go. Falling to my knees, immersed in self hate for the false god I had created, in desperation I prayed.
I am not a thing, no thing. Not an idol to be worshipped within the alter of my mind. I am not my own god. I question whether I am even in charge of my own fate or destiny, other than whether I remain a wanderer or choose to discover my real Self. Not the fiction of my mind but the truth of my being.
In all its forms what is more fierce, what is more beautiful and more perfect than truth, truth is absolute. Surely God is truth and within God is where I find my real Self.
In that Truth, there, is love. The love of acceptance, the love of forgiveness, the love that waits beyond the cleansing humiliation of truly being seen.
There have been so many changes, in form I have become something else, something other than true. Yet within, in essence I am unchanged. There, shines a truth more than physical.
Awakening from a dream, I am here. Within the piercing clarity of the moment, at last, I am here.