No colour or religion ever stopped a bullet from a gun
I feel like a boy, throwing stones in the vast ocean of my subconscious and looking to the horizons far ahead.
I can almost sense the lazy movement of it's waves, the roll of it's mysterious currents bringing changes in my moods, its salty winds telling stories of brewing storms. There is life down in it's depth - slow and alien, lurking in the eternal darkness, shying away from consious thought.
And much like boy is powerless to change the course of the ocean, no matter how many stones he throws, so am I powerless against myself. Merest change in the ocean, a shift in the current, a change in the wind can wash the boy away, dragging him to the infinite darkness of the watery grave or throw ashore a bounty beyond compare, and none may tell what the next change will bring.
So I sit there on the wet sand of the beach, unable to live in the ocean nor able to walk away, ever-bound to the capricious and willful god that also is me.
I can almost sense the lazy movement of it's waves, the roll of it's mysterious currents bringing changes in my moods, its salty winds telling stories of brewing storms. There is life down in it's depth - slow and alien, lurking in the eternal darkness, shying away from consious thought.
And much like boy is powerless to change the course of the ocean, no matter how many stones he throws, so am I powerless against myself. Merest change in the ocean, a shift in the current, a change in the wind can wash the boy away, dragging him to the infinite darkness of the watery grave or throw ashore a bounty beyond compare, and none may tell what the next change will bring.
So I sit there on the wet sand of the beach, unable to live in the ocean nor able to walk away, ever-bound to the capricious and willful god that also is me.