A Faithful Obsession
My thoughts are plagued by the image of my desires playing hide and seek with my beliefs. They’ve been on this voyage since knee high, when uncertainty didn’t exist. I never questioned the source of their intentions. I simply wanted to see what they saw by the crossroads overseas, where the waves were said to be surreal — still and gentle. A puerile naivety perhaps, but it was mine, nonetheless. Day after day, I’d sit by the harbour with my dreams on a limb and quietly dandle, until they’d lull me to sleep. I’d seen their world a thousand times before so, many things weren’t impossible. Picture a place where the things you imagine could be made manifest the moment you fed them your purest emotions. I had made multiple trips by now, so in reality, anything was virtually possible. In my young mind, doubt was akin to the devil at the time; they both didn’t exist. Until my Adam’s apple began to grow… and then, it fell — quite far from the tree. I wanted all the shiny things the lights had to offer, but mama and papa had made blue prints of their own; they’d made plans to go backwards, bringing forth the blackout.
When a loss creates far fetched distortions ferried from wells a few miles away, does pain become a friend, or does it remain famously fiendish? If it weren’t for these familial bonds and extramarital blindfolds, my watercoloured tears would’ve found an answer by now. Loneliness is colour-blind in the presence of a rainbow, and I’d fallen to a place of great depression, envious of Solitude, and her quaint expressions. Who’d been writing the script for my existence up until their separation? Every time I had to play my part, I often wondered if they could sense how very disappointed I was in the role they’d carved out for me. I didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the cast so in truth, I felt a castaway —surrounded with nothing but white noise and a curious fear of the future. But as timorous as I may have appeared to most on the outside, unbeknownst to them, courage and desire conspired to reign over the main features of my interior design. So, I challenged failure to a game of truth or dare, but he was too scared of taking risks. I asked freedom if she’d found herself yet, but she lacked the vision to look within.
What kind of a place is this? A place where happiness plots jealously against joyfulness? I had eleven hundred and one questions and I desperately needed some answers, but no one cared enough to give me a tip of the faintest clue. At about a quarter mile from this moment in time, I remember thinking they were all a bunch of selfish cowards… but then it occurred to me that it was quite possible that they were also searching for the same things I had come in search of — a little laughter, some contentment, and a lifetime with peace of mind. I had started to lose all hope but patience couldn’t care less about such a loss, for she knew that being hopeful wasn’t what was needed. Patience knew with an unwavering certainty that what I needed was a single dose of good old faith! An enduring faith that possessed enough wisdom to see past the ills of a present moment, into the thrills of an elaborate future. As time passed and blame retreated to the more mature corners of my being, I found solace in the knowledge that empathy and I wore the same pair of ragged brogue shoes. I learned to show gratitude for all the memories of the motion pictures my eyes had captured along the watery lanes of this sinful odyssey —life!
It was a strange feeling that day by the appointed place, and he came just in time. I’d arrived at destiny’s port where my most original self was waiting with my name on a screen, in the palm of his hand. I stood still, in awesome tranquility, face to face with the I that I am; thankful for this gift of life, and a faithful obsession with Alpha’s Omega. My thoughts had been plagued by the image of my desires playing hide and seek with my dreams. They’d been on this voyage since knee high, when they could sail to places uncertainty could never reach. I never questioned the depths of their integrity, for I so wanted to see what they saw by the crossroads, overseas. A puerile fantasy it was, perhaps, but it was mine nonetheless —a young man’s story of all time, ending here, as it once begun.
