I fight daily against an enemy of words. The world tries to steal my freedom with names that fit people, but make no sense to a person. All I want to do is honor the pride in my hands, the hands that feed my imagination and my hunger.
I have no color. I’m not a continent, I’m a land to myself. I live where my boundaries take me, not where I am placed. I build a life for my own, not for scavengers to fly above waiting till the time is ripe.
A group is insecure by nature and needs others to validate their beliefs, I need no man to walk the paths of my journey, you may shake my hand, but never my beliefs, so go elsewhere for weaker constitutions.
I see other men joining. I will never join anything but my beloved. I don’t need another mans glory to walk proud. I don’t need clothing and adornments to demonstrate my weakness within another mans prowess, I stand alone. You cannot define a free man, he won’t allow it.
I understand most men seek solace in the company of other men under a banner of past accomplishments by other men, but me, I’m not livestock. I’m brave enough to be free.
Things do not make me, the earth does. My nature is not built of glass and steel, I’m relentless like the growth that overtakes your buildings long after they’ve been abandoned for new fantasies.
I don’t need to be entertained by false displays of bravado or heroism. I fight a war for my existence everyday not to be defined by the ignorance around me. Slogans and creeds are the vines that choke a free man. Banners and flags are just signs of which direction the storm is coming. My mind is outside the realm of incarceration, no matter where my body is.
I wish no man Ill will, nor do I judge a man for being led. We stand where we’re placed, from there we put down roots based on our topography, or keep moving to avoid being cultivated. Germination is more than seeds in dirt, and to stand in awe at the explosion of light throughout your life trying to climb on the backs of other men like weeds in a garden doesn’t create fertile souls. Turning the soul over continuously prepares the mind to consider the spirit.
Stay free my friend. Resist the world and it defining ambitions. Don’t come my way with your seeds of destruction, it will be like planting seeds in a jungle, the wild ones will always take over and define themselves. I wish you a lifetime of calloused hands toiling, and sweating brows dripping, into your own pastoral bliss.