A Servant Heart No more
I cannot tell you what shall come of me, I am no god no titan. I bare no vision of my future. I am merely a man, a human. A straggling piece of flesh left by god. A possible scab flicked from his heart. Flung to the surface of earth in either affection or the sheer pleasure to see what can be molded of such.
I speak as any other speaks, from my throat. My tongue, its guide and my lips its companion. I walk as any other, upon my feet that bare toes for balance. I see as any other, from the interpretation of my brain.
I am no different than any other who stands upon this earth. We all carry hearts, minds, and imagination. But few I believe give themselves possession of their heart. Giving it only direction in the name of others. Following with idle eyes and lips that drool with obsession to please.
Groveling for devotion though they give none to themselves. Lingering in the shadows peering with feeble hands as they call out for direction. They wither like flowers in the winter, colorless and broken.
But I do not say these words in harshness. I have only written in such to bring my own heart disgust on such thoughts. On such a way of life. For I was once a sycophant, a parasite looking to leech love in servitude.
I was a blind man of love who frothed his cowardly heart in fear. I led my life by the steps of others and followed their every word. I let myself believe what others had sprung from their throats. I scurried like a cockroach from light. Hiding as they would approach. Sweating beneath my arms as if a liar caught in a devilish act.
But I am this no more. I wonder now with my eyes in good thought. My heart in love and my imagination in faith. Though god may have tossed me from a dried wound and left me only for study, I have no ill will of life.
Though I may have walked in my own forsaken, my own hell with thickets that bore my flesh with their prickling teeth. I gnaw not upon my wounds nor lick them with pitiful eyes. Though I may never reach the life I see in my mind.
I fight each day as a warrior would in battle. Take my life if you must before my mission is complete. But I shall swing my sword against my enemy till I am cut from my breath.
How do you view your existence, how do you think of your self?
A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words
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