MAN-CHILD

MAN-CHILD

"A man is the history of his breaths and thoughts, acts,atoms and wounds, love, indifference and dislike;also of his race and his nation, the soil that fed him and his forebears, the stones and sands of his familiar places, long-silenced battles and struggles of conscience, of the smiles of girls and slow utterance of old women, of accidents and the gradual action of inexorable law, of all this and something else too, a single flame which in every way obeys the laws that pertain to Fire itself, and yet is lit and put out from one moment to the next,and can never be relumed in the whole waste of time to come." - Randolph Henry Ash, ca 1840


I stared at the mirror.

Unflinching, unassuming stare.

WHO IS THIS MAN?

This man, who for long thought himself caged and beaten down, a damaged creature sewn together by his words and the many creations of his pen.

This man with thoughts that read as poems, with songs that sound as quiet sobs, with actions that bear the face of long-weathered toil.

Who is this man?

And i smile.

Giddily, funnily, excitedly.

I see HIM.

A man whose flickering flames are lit anew, a wildfire of new dreams, now within reach; of new passions, love and friendships continually feeding the burning core. A man aware of his past, the striking of swords that bled his flesh, and fortified his soul.

A MAN-Child.

With many more men to become within him.