I do not care for idiosyncrasies. I do not care for morbid tales of broken hearts, or bloodied fields of forgotten memories. I do not take to heart your showy dancing or your protestations of joy through the many tears you shed.
I do not look for false praise, or reactionary condemnation. I do not hope to be your savior, or loath to be the sinner for which you blame your anger on. I do not care for your desire, or hope for your acceptance.
I simply wish to live.
I will not compete for your attention, nor will I wallow in some pity in its absence. I will not pray to empty space for things within my grasp, and I will not create some faith on which to pin my hopes. I will carry the crosses placed upon my shoulders, and I will pick myself up when I fall upon the rock soil.
I do not ask you to wipe the bloody sweat from my weary face, but I will love you in the mere suggestion that you will. I will not beg for your hand to grasp my own, but I will hold you tightly if you do. I will not seek out your embrace, but I will protect you with my life should you seek shelter in my arms.
I will not beg you for mercy and will run you through should you try to force me to my knees. I will forgive you but I will not forget, and I will stand tall against the storms in my mind suggesting my memory should be shortened. If you cut me I will bleed, and my blood stains the tapestry we share forever.
My skin has been thickened by the lash, my heart hardened by the blades sent to slice it into pieces. My mind is strong, tested by the best bastards who’ve tried, and failed, to break me. My will has been tempered by the Devil’s own fires, fires that have singed to a hardened stone on which nothing feeds.
You will find me vulnerable, but if tested me you will find a Lion who feeds upon those who dare poke those tender spaces. The better parts of me are saved for those who love me, while the best parts of me are saved for those who would feed me to the vermin.
It is not the holiest of men who can smile through the suffering, or fake comfort in their pain. It is not the enlightened among us who can laugh at life’s misery or shout love from the mountains of bodies strewn about. The man who truly loves himself finds comfort in the truth. He allows his tears to fall, his passion to burn brightly through even the thickest walls. He accepts his own defeat, relishes in the glory of his victories, and never, ever, fakes a single thing about himself. He silences the voices in his mind with the clap of his hands, and lets them speak when such counsel need be heard.
The enlightened ones are warriors. They act through the cause of self not at the behest of past echoes in their souls, but in the cause of a moment not fully lived without the truth. They are unbridled in their self-expression, and they never buckle under the scrutiny of eyes made dim through the edicts of others. They take orders from an authority seldom heard, and bow only to altars that most will never see.
Such warriors are lonely hearts. It becomes hard to find others who understand the path, let alone can handle the journey. Yet they move in solitude through steps graced by divinity, feeling the soft caress of One Great Soul in each and every footfall.
When they seek out loving company they reach out to find only empty air. Such space acts as the softest wall, invisible lines whose memories create separation that only a few can describe. We find such wonderful people there who are always just beyond our grasp, moved always by a truth that in some way we are simply meant to be alone.
Yet there is no pity for the absence, no remorse in the setting Sun. It is what it is, a great symphony who always makes beautiful music, a simple harmony that always sounds just right. Warriors trust in the process, and have faith that waves will break just the way they are supposed to in the exact space they are meant to crash. There is no questioning the Great Sea whose tides will always ebb and flow in a matter mere mortals can only hope to see.
I will close my eyes again shortly, knowing full well that when the Sun rises above my reluctant home no one else will be there. I will smile and take my place among the stars whose light is present yet hidden from some earthly view. It is the darkness that rescues the light from heaven, and it is the night that gives the day all the praise it can handle.
Good night. I will see you soon.