I won’t lie
I’m like everyone else
My soul is for sale
The highest bidder hasn’t even reached half the reserve
Who are we kidding? The right person with the right words, with the right mind, with the right touch for all the wrong reasons and you could be sold for a few pennies.
Let’s be brutally honest and stop regurgitating this cliché. We all have that spot, somewhere or something inside of us that if it is found puts down all our defences.
I have experienced it with the most hostile of souls and the most gentle. Everyone has something about them.
The problem is, the navigators of the human soul have become few and far between.
I’m a rebel without a cause in most of my pursuits.
Authority? I stick a big proverbial in their face.
Law? What law?
Sensitivities of humans? Push me and I’ll tear you down in a heartbeat.
You want to get physical? I’ll hit you seven ways before your anger has fettered to your fists as I’m on my toes all the time.
It’s hard to tell my stubborn ego what to do.
But one look from my teachers and I melt.
They bought me and have me shackled, key thrown away rusted chains to my ankles, anchor me to humility in their presence.
They know how to spear my heart from all vain desires with a line of prose or an anecdote of a master sage.
What did they pay for my capture?
I love you teachers.
May God sanctify your secrets.
In loving memory of her, who gave me the lantern niche illumed with oils and lit the flame for me to see the way to him.
Him, who carries the torch with love and forbearance, with patience to my folly until the day where my ego can finally be slain a mighty death on the alter of the masters before me.