Turmoil

     I won't say I know all the hardships in the world that exist. But I do definitely know of them. Of the worse of worst. It's a rather big claim, but in it I include the intimate knowledge of  a person or families hardships that were confided. Not because I know one. Simply because I know them by the dozen, yet they exist in thousands. I have witnessed many horrible situations, I've herd many a awful crimes, I've been told of tortures people went through, I've read of despicable actions from past more than I care to count. It's enraged me, yet I do not feel rage. It engulfs the world, yet I do not suffocate.

     That misery, I witness it in different manners every day. I deal with it many times a day. It's so well hidden, woven in the cloth of a shimmering shawl. Everyone knows it, sees' it, yet most refuse to acknowledge it. Most of whom, do not acknowledge it, take part in it. Some as victims, same as criminals. Is criminal too harsh a word? If you wonder that, you've not honestly looked at the dread hidden beneath the shimmering fabric of life.

     But what do I do with the knowledge I have? I choose a life, that would rebel against it until a revolution begins. Yet, every day I'm thrown into a turmoil of emotional abyss, wondering what can I do? Revolutions, you see, are a bit tricky. The require immense patience and time. The result, how ever big or small, is always worth it. But in the mean time, how can I simply wait? Witness the dread each day? Let the lives be terrorized, let the mind be destroyed, let the society be ruined? How can I do nothing? How do I live with that?

     Yes, I do the minimal. And, yes, my minimal is more than most peoples maximum. But at the same time, it is so very little, as to offer nothing more than a frequent comfort in otherwise hopeless life. How can that be enough? It isn't.

I sure can shout at the world, get relief from my agitation, if that were what I wanted. But that does nothing. Nothing at all. Just another bad thought, in a gulf of sorrow. And in midst of it all, I'm full of contentment and happiness. I'm at peace, and full of joy, even though the matters that embroil me in dread are ever present, never even side-tracked for a nano-second. And I know not how is that possible? It's like standing in middle of the most destructive tornado unscathed. It's supposed to be impossible. And yet, somehow, here I stand, brimming with laughter.  

     I've set my life like a chess board, and the endgame is already decide. Yet I know not if there will be enough time, to play until the end. I have to wait, let the pieces be destroyed, destroy pieces in process. Does life has to be a war? I've never seen nature fight. Quarrels, justice, redemptions, yes. But never have I seen war rage in nature. How did we stray so far? How have we ended up here? What is progress or this luxury worth - is it really worth your life? So many lives... 

    So, I walk with the that shimmering shawl wrapped about me, soldiering on with a head held high. My shoulders do not slump with its weight. I keep it close, mending it little by little when I can, where I can. Until I've acquired, everything needed, to weave it once again. Without the shimmering glitter, without the faulty thread. After all, waiting isn't all that bad. Endurance has shaped nature into a magnificent sight. So, endurance shall shape us humans into something good as well.