Metamorphosis

Had I not thought of one day where I wished to perish. The feeling of heaviness in the soul, my mind's transparency in the least. My fingers pick a dandelion in hopes to inspire a dream of obtaining everlasting beauty and a life of delicacy. Caressing the surface, I too see something radiant, something real; an object beyond the droplets of space and time created in the hands of man. But its liveliness, its yellow vibrancy fades too soon as it hangs limp in the balance of my fingers. A flower so open and filled with vital energy, lies dull and ashen in the remnants of what it is known to be where I’ve once loved. A flower is not meant to be picked in the fingers of human existence. Providing only temporary satisfaction is what is desired most; The satisfaction in which I've deserted myself picking flowers.  I found myself running in fields of gold, chasing in the dampness cradled by desires that provide my spirit no nourishment. My tongue was addicted to that feeling of ecstasy, lost in a temporary high where my vision remained distorted in reality created for those who do not wish to face themselves.  At the end of the day, I’ve gone back to the beginning. I picked more flowers and died at the end. A cycle that seemingly everyone one of us finds themselves living in every day.

I once had a dream. A dream where one could walk upon the sea. The water was the distant vision of glass, an invisible shield where a resemblance resided on the other side. An assembly of people strolled ahead of me, their feet gliding effortlessly across the surface like a doves searching for exploration. Smiles planted on their faces, they enjoyed the pleasure of walking upon the sea. As their words became a disfiguration of art, the sounds of waves gathered and rocked in the depths of my ears. The gentle splashing of water against one’s legs reigned my deprived senses. 

I step onto the surface of the sea, anticipating my feet would graze the glass-like waters. Instead I find myself sinking, drowning in the midst of a thousand bubbles. I become a fool, a laughingstock to others. I feel their mouths curl to the sky, holding sharpened daggers on their tongues. I die a fool in the depths of the sea and no soul dared to save someone beyond dead. The dream was a reflection of my inner consciousness and who I was in my waking life. As dreams do, they are an entryway for self discovery and buried paths. A warning for sunken ships and desires in many forms. This dream was no different from those. I was always drowning. A drowning fool.

But what exactly was I living for? Was I living for poetry? For art? For literature? Those sacred moments that life holds that everyone seems to miss? No, I was not living for those things because I was the fool. My hands were covered in sin, in guilt, the black ocean water. My knees fell to the ground as I begged God to give me a reason to live. I needed a reason to exist regardless of the truth that I didn’t. We don’t need a reason I'd recall, but why was my heart still filled with water? My heart drowned in the heaviness of the ocean, yet my mind stayed still onto the shore. Why were my lips still crimson, stained with the salty lining of the sea’s kiss? Why did I dissolve myself in worldly things just to run away from myself? 

 It has appeared my heart dwelled in the presence of dead flowers and all I ever did was run. What gives me a reason to stay, to love, to fly? The more I’ve come to know, the sadder I’ve become-- so what gives me any more reason to do anything? What gave me a reason to become everything and nothing?

It wasn’t till I saw it. I fell into a world unknown to mankind, a lucid dream triggered by the presence of my despair. The vibrancy of the land filled with citrus and oceanic blue colors. The aroma of jasmine lingered through the air like leaves gathering in autumn. In the distance lay a spring. In the sun's tears, it glistened, creating fragments exploring the underside of the water. Traveling over rocks, the water lay unnerving, restless, yet tranquil. The sensation the sight gave me was foreign, enough for me to wonder about my own thirst. Existence had me parched, thirsty for a need of security; so much so I had even drank poison. I had indulged in a sense of false security. But above all, I loved and craved every bit of it. 

My bare feet walked towards the spring as the dew from the morning grass subsided my need to run. When I reached the trickling spring, I knelt down onto the damp soil. As I cupped my hands I gazed ahead and paused, only to find an angel resting on the highest rock. 

Her skin resembled midnight honey and the warming taste of cinnamon. Cradled by white lace, her feathers stood tall yet fair above the crystals. With the eyes of chestnut fields, I found myself infatuation with a feeling of apprehension. She gazed down at me, the alluring features of her face striking my core.

“Drink,” she whispered.

My tongue ruled with friction, I felt no ability to utter a word. Raising the pristine waters to my lips, I explored the sudden sweetness resting in my senses. It was like I had drank the wine of Dionysus. Intoxicated with the flavor, I became drunk with an foreign feeling. I peered up to meet the gaze of the angel, but she left no trace--only the sight of a single ivory feather floating downstream. The drunkenness consumed me and abruptly, I spit out blackness rooted in the cellars of my spirit. A thousand years of death, of suffrage, of agony had suddenly risen and fled. My mind had a clearness to it, a cleanliness where evil no longer rested. My need for my death had subsided and I felt as if I had found something I had lost for centuries. It was like I had found a religion. 

Lying still on fair grounds I found myself becoming the promised land. I crowned myself as the true land of pureness, of holiness, a sacred sanctuary of decaying bodies engaged in worldly desires. But who knew of what I had coming next? Was I going to be a pure being forever? Will I be resurrecting from the drawing girl in the sea?  I became fat with drunkenness. At the end of the day, what I did not know was my drunkenness could one day become sober.