It feels like the culmination of 15 years in varied turmoil and drive, is coming to point of fruition, but the choices one lays out for themselves at this point are dramatically different…
When you come to that fork in the road you must either take the red pill or the blue pill… in one instance you wake up in your bed and you plod along mundane until you realise you missed it; but in the other instance, that red pill, that right fork, you find everything you’ve always wanted.
Always take the red pill my son, always run down that right fork as if to avoid a hoard of wolves at your back.
We were destined to always find our freedom and rid ourselves of the plight of mind… evolving, thoughts undulating, as they shift like the wind on a petal.
There’s no being bold, no stiff upper lip in my world, at the end of it I still fight every day to tear away the smog in my vision and push forward. To rise from my bed and to run for you.
My feet bleed and my heart aches as I try to find another way through, lungs choking the breath from my body like a giant vice…
Every negative I pay for in mind, every burden I shoulder, that I might cast it into the abyss at the end of days…
And if our playing small does not serve the world and we all must shine, then why do we struggle for our end gain, when so many are deaf?
We do this because in learning to flow through it, learning to be symbiotic within the world we live, while incubating our spirit for a new DNA, is how we shift the balance.
Wild horses never fear a man who knows himself.
And so for you my son I bleed…
“I’m overworked, with little pay, 5 years I’ve worked all 7 days,
But all that’s gone was built to last, you can’t evolve, if not from past,
And so I fight again and more, the futures knocking at my door,
I do this all, to see my son, just climbing tree’s, in fields he’s run,
And when I’m beaten down again, I summon strength, from deep within,
The force upon me day by day; he clambers over bales of hay,
As darkness it distorts my mind, he’s built a den with dogs in mind,
The sickness sometimes can’t be rid, but I must go because he hid,
And now I seek, to have forgotten, find him behind logs a’rotten,
In his face a different me, the boy who’d longed for climbing trees,
The piece that I missed all my life, that had me hanging, on a knife,
He’s now right here in front of me, his ignorance to set me free,
As led by hand and up the hill, we forge a memory of will,
And what and how and why and where, just go ahead we’ll meet you there,
You’ll find us climbing in our tree, our gaze as far as one can see,
Beyond the sun and over hills, here’s one more man without the pills,
Complete at last, this yang and ying, my life I fought in search of him,
And now I grasp his tiny hand, and coax him to become a man,
But I feel it’s worth the fight, as I lay him down at night,
So in the present he will be, when long I rest beneath our tree.”