Why I Became Wise
A child was lost in the woods of my consciousness. A place populated
by Wild Machineries and Wondering Beasts.
Wondering Beasts that devoured his simplicity. They hid in the
bushes, hung from the trees, pounced at him from behind, and lept out
from the ground underneath him, to bite into his soul with sharp
questions: “who/what/how/when/why are you?”
And Wild Machineries that grew into his body. Rusty nails hidden among
fallen leaves. Poison arrows coming from no one. Shrapnels shooting
out from imaginary bombs. Words. Razors. Bitter memories. These
objects, inert parasites, would cut into him and become alive at the
taste of blood. Once embedded in his body, they blossomed into
constellation of gears and wheels.
These machineries grew larger than the child’s tiny body. Antlers that
extended into the heavens, making it difficult to balance his head.
Wings that spanned 10 feet, anchoring him on earth. His teeth
sharpened into fangs of empty rhetorics. His nails lengthened into
claws that grasped for existence…
More and more these outgrowths slowed him down, ane less and less of
his simplicity– his bouyant lightness– remained, devoured by the
Wondering Beasts.
One day the weight of the Machineries became too much to bear. So the
child sat on a rock and became a philosopher, his lightness no longer
enough to float him into the air.
To this day, he still sits on the same rock.
Maybe one day the rock he’s sitting on would vanish under him.
