the nature of rest

 

I know now that the daily uphill battle exists, and it is inevitable. I resent it every dawn, still haven't learnt to enjoy it, still havent learnt to shed all the dead weight before I start the climb.

I cannot count the years it took to dawn. To understand that I must sweat and train and bleed every day, all my life, just for the privilege of being myself. To hold the lethargy that fear and life bring, close to my heart, and keep going.

Also inevitable is knowing that I will lose this lesson every night to my human nature. A gregarious seeker of crowds and common voices. their echoes bouncing inside my head will slip me back gently to the lowest common denominator, come sleep.

while I climb, while I lug around heavy corpses and vivid blow-by-blow memories, the hardest thing to find is rest, shed load, forget. or is it forgive?

some days, i'm bent over double by the weight, my back aches. and I wish within the bounds of promises and compass bearings, that the moon was just over here, beyond this water, inside this dream. so I can finally stop, sink to my knees and never get up again

which is when I found out that if there be one thing the world demands constantly of us, it is our nights. our supine forms at rest, all baggage shed. our sleep, our darkness. the world never understands our need for it, unless it is explained with unfocused divinity, mired in established rituals, and rigidly outlined in time.

my search for the nature of rest began with a singer, his song. he knew truth, saw it, sang it, and tried to show it, in a truly transparent attempt at redemption, for himself and his muse.

he showed me that whatever I wanted to see was already behind my closed eyes. just a matter of being able to close my eyes and search. he showed me in one of those rare moments when someone reveals their immortal soul, that there is no greater destruction than denying who we truly are.

he showed me that there is just one consequence of destruction. more destruction.