TRANSCRIPT
Is there a wound too deep to grieve, that nothing will its ache relieve? Some hidden silent unhealed wrong, some hurt alive from time bygone.
From your first ally, your first friend, that did your base foundation bend, that cooled like granite so complete before you stood on your own feet. That warps the way you walk today, that nothing will make go away, yet is so buried and protected that you might seem unaffected.
Can you face it? Can you solve it? Can you somehow now dissolve it? Chart its contours, feel its horror, be a new kind of explorer. Can you go where few are going, where your ancient tears are flowing down into the deepest CFT, the spring to heal your soul bereft?
Yes, you can go there. You can be a channel of sincerity, a tributary of rebirth to all who walk this wounded Earth. Be creative, open your soul, take the risk to become whole. Yet let the world know how you’re lost and speak no matter what the cost.
But also share the things you’ve found while you were searching underground. And drop the normal, drop the cover, take the risk to be the other. And take the risk to be unsure, to drop your mask, be insecure. To model something deep and new for others striving to be true.
And take the risk to be rejected by those who seem unaffected and those who never risk a thing to write or paint or dance or sing. And if your sleep at night is tense, then that’s life’s vote of confidence. For those who slumber without strife are those who live a tepid life.
So be a hero, be the brave one, and maybe on your path you’ll save one needing someone just like you, an honest soul, creative true.
Shall I finally be a leader, one who takes a solid stand with no secret “love me, love me,” but instead who lends a hand? I am inching daily closer by the foot and yard and mile, soothing all my ancient injuries. Healing takes a lonely while.
Glimpses of potential catch me in the mirror of my life, taller, stronger, and more honest, walking forward through the strife. Sometimes I can see it clearly what my path is meant to be, not a child full of terror, rather integrated me.
Little boy inside of me, I know how vulnerable you are. You’ve been with me for decades since the dawning of the morning star. Little boy inside of me, I work each day to help you grow. I’ve grieved and taken distance from the ones who harmed you long ago.
Little boy inside of me, I love to watch you sing and play. We’ve walked together, now we rest; there’s only so much in a day. I will fight and I will die to heal the world I daily try, and here’s my basic strategy to liberate the best of me.
For those who want to have a child wild, have you discovered what is wild inside of you in your own soul? Or are you tame, your heart grown cold? I do not know why you can’t see how hurt our world has come to be and how the folks who procreate were born 500 years too late.
The time has come to end the crazy. Go with then, please don’t be lazy and do the world a service true: do not have kids, give birth to you.
I love it when the first waters of spring start to flow, when the ice melts off the top of the pond and you can feel the life within ready to wake up. You know that soon the turtles will be coming out of the mud and the frogs will be coming out too, and soon there will be tadpoles.
You can’t see anything yet, but you sense it coming. It’s exciting, a time of expectant waiting. I love that feeling, and I first loved it as a boy. It was just like me, a frozen person soon to wake up.