Wishing for wanting good was a sin.
Years of yearning to have finally my prayers answered into the worst of the worst, what irony could it be? Why was it even relevant? Years today, down this lane, I am as clueless as I was.
There will be a periodic defeat in life that will leave you in a lurch wandering to think of the reason you wish you had.
Years have passed, more faith and strength might have formed substance, and given much patience, it hasn’t healed. Time has but healed only that which was fresh. Scars are a gift of a lifetime. They will stay, they will be the lessons you never thought why they mattered.
Wisdom will seep through, gravitate enough to make you a pariah in purists.
Patience comes only after a while, it is the gift, but at a cost, another tangibly intangible feel that can’t be taught, given, or inherited for that matter. It is given by the will of the might.
To all this and more, the question today is similar, very much present, the past still so relevant, why so much yearning, deceit, wandering, defeat, wisdom, and patience? All for what? All for more suffering? All for what good? All for trial is the answer. All for tests and tests are hard. And, heroes are never known by their trophies, they’re known by their scars.
I knew then, surrendering was it. It was but no choice, it was but enough of surrendering. A battle of clashing egos that had the souls
inflated, sordid, and miserable.
If the choice wasn’t given when born, why should there be a choice when lived? The choice is never yours, mine, or anyone’s, it is the trade-off that is defined for the good fated and ill-fated.