A Journey to Breathe

By John Rahme

A yearlong conflict amid the Sun and the Moon you witnessed. Watching the Sun rise to engulf the world with light, the Moon to awaken to slumber the world.

Equally Sun and Moon, not care or contemplate your existence.

My existence not be without light or dark.

Events of this year, are of those which are assembled and played out in a theatre of Darkness.

Not nor can be orchestrated by words of truth. As only fiction they can be seen.

A man was relentlessly beat. Beat by the hands of circumstance. Kicked time and time again by thorns made by man.

A chalice of Gold heavy with poison liquid I drink. A horrible beating by circumstance and life you received. No greater hurt and torture came to you, other than from your own right hand.

Belittled you were. Dragged through the coarse path.

Scars try to heal; it is I who revive them.

Your hand, your right hand, your mind, your sacred inner thoughts. Your worth and belief, it is your right hand which grip these tight, with a crushing grip it holds and a crushing beating unto you.

The Sun losing his war as the days grew short and cold.

The Moon fought the Sun well. Knowing that night would be long, a gift towards a man who was beat, was beat in his own mind.

A gift of rest, upon me.

Sleep, dream you fool.

A wise fool you be. To preach too many, not to listen to him.

Preach you wise fool no more. Listen to your own sermon.

Believe in an old fool.

Why has so much become so worthless to my eye.

Why do I see a desert inside of a Forrest?

All is nothing to me, All is emptiness to feel. All is for All, but me.

I only look at four pillars of strength.

Four pillars placed in four corners of the earth.

Not four horsemen, as I am not Godly, nor are my pillars.

But for them.

I live for strength.

All the emptiness and hollow souls which walked on this green, nothing they mean.

But my four pillars are of rock and unconditional love.

Is all a wise fool need to breathe?