I AM...

"I am the infant, much appraised, long awaited, much beloved, long neglected.
I am the infantile talent. I am the astonishment and the skill, I am the amazement, come not to inspire, nor to admire, but to devour. A excess obesity, pointing towards the chasm.

I am the child, much beloved, a smile and a prank away from acceptancy, from escapism.
I am the masked minstrel, the chained clown, I bring laughter where there is void, I bring void where there is laughter. I bring with me my mask, my ticket to relief; my salvation from what cannot be understood. I drag my chains along with me, to escape from the chasm.

I am the drifter. I am the troubles that I draw, from the images in my head. I am the artist that cannot be seen, infamy when alive, fame when dead. I am the wanderer, devoid of reason, devoid of reasons, yet not devoid of thought. I am the deep troubling stare, I am the one to cause unease, to bear deprivation and despair, with that single lasting stare.
I am the backtracker, stirring in the pot of reason, staring in a pond of reasons. I wipe the damp moist from my mask; it can't fall apart, it must be carried on, there is only the mask, not the moist.
Only the mask, not the moist. There is no reason for the moist... There is only the mask.

I am the mask. I am the aware. I am the reason. I am the chains. I am the unease. I am the devoid. The deprivation. The despair. It is I who is in the pot, it is I who is getting clubbed and bruised and beaten, by reason; how can you get beaten by what you are. I am the essence, the equality, the escapist. I am the next step, I have the talent to cross the border, escape the pot, the beatings, give back the bruises. I am the one skilled enough to devour the mask, I AM the mask! So I CAN devour it! Self-destroy, recreate!
I am Mozes! I swipe the seas of subtlety to Sodom and Gomorra! I am the essence! I will NOT land in the chasm! No more bruises. No more chains.
If I am the essence, I can fill the chasm... The pot... The pond... Fullfillment... I can throw off the mantle of melancholy, reveal the bruises, lash my chains at the astonished, the amazed! I can tell the tale, and fill the chasm...

 
But I am not the change...

...

I stand still. I stare, motionlessly. I am stunned. I am surrounded by chasms.

Silence is my companion, a trustful tranquility.

Infants, the breaking of the silence. Talents develop, futures unfold, wishes for smiles are granted. A river of life fills the chasms, now devoid of void. Hope spreads all around me.

I stand still. I stare, motionlessly. I am stunned. I am surrounded by life.

The rivers of life splash playfully around. Children scurry about, constructing thoughts and reasons. They bring genuine laughter, evolution, rivers rising to become wonderful waterfalls, deafening its surroundings, dissapearing in jungles of life and wonder, certain of their outcome.

I stand still. I stare, motionlessly. I am stunned. I am overshadowed by mountains and jungles of life and wonder.

I am but a fraction of disbelief, hidden between massive constructions of success, thought and reason, an equality far superior to mine, a evolution, a progression; a goal. 
The mountains erode, the jungle suffers from dead trees, the rivers dry out.
But I stand still.

I stand still. I stare, motionlessly. I am stunned. I am in the chasm.

I am but a mask. I carry only chains. I am but essence.

I am nothing."

Surt                                                                                                                                              top
13-10-08