Ignorant Eyes

Ignorant Eyes

Myriad malnourished miscreants march merrily along a morose trail of tears. Merrily, because they march onward toward an unseen and unknown destiny, the uncertainty excites them. The trail is morose because of what they leave behind them. Everything and anything that is known. This is the march taken by all and recognized by few. It is a hard journey full of peril, heartbreak, plague, destitution, destruction, and moral ambiguity. But all must walk forward into the unknown future, or risk stagnation. A living thing is meant to move—however slowly—lest they one day find themselves unable; impotent to affect their surroundings, and what good is an ineffectual being? What makes them any different than a ghost? Why would they stay here in a physical reality filled with action and consequence if not to join in to the flow, come heartache or ecstasy?

Nay. Give me torture, give me poverty, give me rape, bloody murder, atrocity, ailment, alarm, duress, distress, and distasteful access to all that is and will ever be, but never assume I’ll keep my hand from reaching out to touch the world around me. Never expect that I should not inhale the scent of the earth and let out a sigh of anticipation and appreciation, having changed the world simply by observing the birth of each new day. Do not presume to suppress my ability to pierce hearts with my gaze, and incite riots with my ways, wiling away nights in a drunken haze, while toiling away with my days.

“To what end?” You might ask with your ignorant eyes. “To the only end that matters.” comes my smug repugnant reply.  An end that doesn’t end, but goes onward and upward, deeper into a center of infinite minutiae; where nothing is yet known but is only assumed, because there is never any certainty, any fool claiming otherwise knows only how to deceive and relieve the burden of the common believer, clinging to this reprieve from critical thought that is only gained through such hard fought battles as to be considered precious.

Yet still they run in droves to cleave this source of self-esteem and instead they dream of a centrally planning overseeing being that takes over the heavy lifting of mental sorting and sifting, slowly rending and rifting our minds, bodies, and souls in disparate shifting directions with propagandized and self-aggrandized elections, glossing over imperfections, encouraging limited selections of a frivolous kind, which upon closer inspection mean even less than you expected when you first redirected your focus to try and recollect your own unsightly minion’s opinion.

The slave that you are fights desperately not to recognize the reflection in the mirror, worried that the sight might glimmer and grow clearer, and force you to evaluate the true position you find yourself in, which is drawing ever nearer, filling your heart with fear that you in turn bury with gallons of beer and hours of football, free-fall, and  fuck-all, all the vacuity that simmers and sears in your ignorant eyes, eliciting bitter tears at the multitude of lies absorbed through your ears every day for years and years until at last you die and account for your sins: the losses and the wins, all that should have been way back when and forever after. The friends you could have made, the wasted time you were spending at charades, letting your prejudices pervade, and never consciously growing, all the while knowing that you’re slowly dying one day at a time.

I say the nay, once more, and instead open up that door to infinite possibility brought on by the unpredictability of our natural state which is to never grow sated or accept what is fated, refusing to be caught waiting, unabatedly cast off the inundation that the leaders of our nation would keep us under so that they can enjoy our permanent vacation from the seats of power that glowingly shower down an unequal distribution of wealth, health, and prosperity. These things are not meant to be distributed or institutionalized, but grasped, handled, and executed with our own slightly less ignorant eyes than before. It’s that slowly opening door that offers brand new avenues of interaction, transaction, and satisfaction, waiting consciously for you to step through to a more malleable destiny of your own creation, divinely guided my sublime inspiration, redemption, and exaltation to the universal over-soul that we know in varying degrees by different names and that we all hold claims of exclusivity to, backed up by scenes of creation and nativity, crucifixion and prophetic apoplectic insensitivity.

But these divisive diversions gain few conversions and don’t serve the greater purpose as well as simply asking and praying without delaying to be shown the truth, and seek and be forsooth, sought ourselves, through our corporeal hells that we’ve created in abundance. Find the character of God and emulate it, imagine your mind as a prized possession and stimulate it. Take care of the gifts you’ve been given, because you’ll never be given them again. You owe it to yourself to enjoy, find light and make light of life’s travails with your spiritually incumbent joyous envoy. You were meant to be happy, and you’ve lost the way of it, but reach out with your own hands to the ethereal beyond and see if it doesn’t respond in such astoundingly wondrous sound and fury as to ignite the light behind your ignorant eyes to visualize the impending reconstruction of every living being’s compulsion at destruction. See the end of this age and smile, because it was nice while it lasted, but everything must end, and frankly, this paradigm has run its course.

Now march onward, either blind or with your own tentatively opening ignorant eyes.

1 Comment

  1. Sandra Donnelly

    Very interesting writing. So true and enlightening and encouraging.
    You are incredibly talented.
    Keep it up!