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I can’t think of anything
more difficult than accepting
that the first thing you’ve ever known
and believed in,
the first thing, from birth,
is all lies. Have the earth
pulled away from under you.
It’s more than cutting
the proverbial umbilical cord
more than leaving the nest
in your wobbly wings
more like a contradiction
you swallowed and can’t spit out,
so you have to undo the knot
from inside you, a million times
worse than waking up realizing
you’ve slept with the enemy and
you can’t take back the night
and you have to live with yourself

be surrounded everyday
by the things you bought
with the interest compounded
from banking past sacrifices
while afflicted with amnesia
and not know who you are

touching with frustrated fingers
trinkets and reminders of emotions
whose stories have been obliterated
trying to remember something,
anything, that’s real
and failing.

So you wander through life
taking the world more seriously
than most, intent in
finding validation,
and if no one is home,
maybe it’s in the songs on the radio,
or corporate brand slogans,
or fictional characters from Murakami novels.

But you’re more than
the sum of the parts
of your past.
The sacred bundle containing
your identity isn’t in any
material or maternal place
you can physically leave behind.

An incandescent spark
a thin paste bonded to your soul
it will follow you
it is you
wherever you are
so don’t be afraid
to wander far

Image source (photographer unknown)


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