January 09, 2017

Star Dust

There's an underlying pain that lives with those who choose to feel with the intensity of a burning match. There's an underlying pain within my soul.
I auto-consume myself, often, in flames that bring my courage to ashes in a constant cycle of destruction and rebirth. A Fenix of sorts.

Every time the remains of my spirit are puzzled back together to look like functional organs, limbs and, at some point, a whole body again, the heart turns into a new version of itself, different than what had ever been... and when it burns again, the crush of it all is crude and desperate and sincere as if it was the first time, its first devastation. Always changing. Losing pieces to never be found again. Creating new connections that were never before. 

There's no instinct to this process... it doesn't come without dilacerating parts of myself each time, turning to cinders and smoke all that I am, all that I believe, all that I had made my purpose. 
Each time it all comes back to life, there is a brand new chance for another big fire to ignite the spirit somehow, somewhere, sometime. A little more cynic, there's no denying, jaded, if you want... the blaze, though, not even a little less powerful.

Left behind, looking back, there's a landfill of all that clung to myself in the past, a tortuous cemetery, a ghost town. A biblical war zone of all that I killed, not quite sure how, not always sure why.

Life is this surprising and releasing realisation that there's always power for destruction. Either relative or absolute. It's within you. A choice you will always have... to burn some, or all, to the ground, and become another self... in an explosion, one day, become just star dust. All lost. Whole, at last.