Wanderer

Where might you be my Origin? You who plucked a piece from yourself to bring forth my soul... longer than time ago. But here and now, oppressed by a need to comprehend if it was due to love, punishment or my own doing, I'm wandering lost, feeling banished in the asylum of existence, amongst an incessant spew of events called life. Here, where nothing lasts, and all will in the end be forgotten. Here, where appearance portrays reality and reality becomes indifferent. Here, where the spurious beauty of illusion and the cult of hope are imperative to dispel the pain, camouflage suffering and appease the yearn. Unreachable Be-ness Lord of my only truth, I plea. Allow your certitude imprison me. Joyful I will serve my sentence, apace with the boundaries of excellence. For what sort of freedom is that intertwined with filth? Blessed be thy justice and more so be thy Grace.