“No one can build you the bridge on which you, and only you, must cross the river of life. … There is one path in the world that none can walk but you. Where does it lead? Don’t ask, walk!” ~ Nietzsche.
Out my grilled windows of opportunity, I eyed the wings hung out to dry, shining, gleaming with drops of perspiration, bejeweled with courage, preened carefully by a woman’s struggles, cast aside after a woman’s untimely and dismal departure – not that all death is dismal, some is disappointingly delayed – a woman I knew, admired. I’d hoped the wings would be bequeathed to me, be mine much like the life lessons she’d bestowed upon me, mine to wear and strut about. As I strutted in my thoughts, women eyeing me green, the same women were approaching the precious, greed gleaming in their eyes, their walk cautious, stealthy. But as soon as they touched the wings, it’s magnificence turned into hues of red, blood dripping onto the ground beneath and screams of anguish, pain and disappointment ranting through the air, of the women who’d dared to adorn the fruits of a path they had never walked upon.
“If the battle isn’t yours, don’t crave the glory,” she’d said.
Some days I have a smile on my face. Yet inside I am breaking apart. Sometimes that trophy is all I want. Yet when I get it, it was not the rosy picture I’d painted. Some days the world doesn’t make sense at all. And other days I think I’ve found the missing puzzle pieces. Somehow, somewhere he meant a lot to me. And yet he never did. Most days I believe there’s a God. Then religion strikes back at my faith. On days I help a poor fellow, the papers print how another looted millions. Some days I want much more than all the colours of the rainbow. Then there are days when even black and white are too much to handle. There are moments when I am the centre of my universe. Then there are times when I wish I could replace an atom. Some days solitude is all I want. Other days I crave to be around people. Some days I wish my dreams came real. Other days I want my reality to become a dream.
And in all of this confusion and clarity, dejection and joy, devastation and creation there’s life. And that itself is reason enough to celebrate. I may not yet know what my purpose of life is, but that’s okay. As long as I keep walking, the road will become clearer and things will begin to make sense. I will as long as I can. Until I can’t. Life’s uncertain. Death isn’t.
Life’s simple. It’s complicated too.
P.S. : We’re all each but one piece of domino. Insignificant we may seem, but just one missing piece can ruin the domino fall.