Walls
I am liberated, your sadness moves through my joy. I know your pain; your sobs, echo like, fill the void that once was us and burst like thunder in the warm silence of my changing.
Your hurt is a wall; your bitterness its height, your grieving its depth, your darkness its light. Pictures of life hang on its face and its foundations are deeper than all your questions, all your searching, all your prayers.
It lives forever in our midst. Many climb its unforgiving sheerness; many try to breach its hard and bleak façade. Few see the glory of what is beyond this leviathan of the adversative side of the incarnate soul. It is part of the returning spirit and is built on the hatred and the fear and the mistrust of what was left behind. It stands while all around it is reduced to ashes. It remains, resolute and strong. It does all this and yet does not exist; its non-existence helping to build it, brick by brick; its mortared ramparts dripping with falsehoods, deceit and the draft of its endless construction.
Calm your heart. Trust that all will be well. Seek nothing but allow your being to become as a chalice full of holes; accepting all but holding onto none; for in the fullness of time, as in the beginning that never was, the shell will be naked and only the learning shall remain.
When dark imaginings begin do nothing and all will come clear. When fear approaches walk into its open arms in the sure knowledge that its embrace will bring forth the seed of its own destruction. When despair looms heavy remember that your journey was planned and all is as it should be.
There are many roads to travel; filled with pain and joy. They belong to you in their purpose. Nothing is good, nothing is bad. Let your covets be temporal; the learning are the learned.
Do not surrender your life. Do not surrender your life. Do not surrender your life, and when you stand before me with no wall to overcome and the dawn of your liberation begins to enfold you in its lustre; then you will know that you and I are not us but I; and that I do not exist; and that from me all is born and all shall return back to me; this I promise.
Jobo Pooks
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