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CONFERRED GLORY


When you live in the shadows of a dream, sometimes they become your waking memory. You are left wondering who you might have been had you left that all behind, to forgive yourself and move on, to move beyond past paradigms and forgotten crimes, to live your life alive, to thrive, never haunted by the past.

‘...as a child, mother and father couldn’t be bothered, what a tragedy within a broken family.’

I felt lonely and abandoned having no opportunity to seek a companion outside the family instead I enlisted the help of a peer, it was me, an inner child, devoid of memory, filled with fear, trembling at that age with a wicked rage ever ready with a perverse phrase on the tip of my tongue to assuage every burning bitter tear, if only they had bled from my eyes and wiped my conscience clear, but in there, the tiny hidden chasm, the cave inside my mind I was blind, abandoned and alone with no ability to atone for the faults and and failures of a flawed family, the thawed crimes of childhood conferred to a non-consenting being devoid of agency. Well within his body I grieve, hidden away from society, friends, family and community, a broken disunity mending any offending thing. I bought the lie, to my surprise, that it was wise to take the blame, to claim the fault as my own, for it was all the same, I even supposed it would soothe and tame a demon that despised any invitation for reprisal, I began floating within the depths of my souls horizon, vows and burdens sold without arrival, ever hovering never grounding, my fairy wings grew tired, thread bare and thin, there is no more grin in avoiding tails of true lies sin, I’ve begun bowing. I have grown old, but mildew and mold, cobwebs and dread harbor a face devoid of grace that in darkness has laid waste to my sacred place. 

Wash away the memory of parental indecency I want to be made clean. The dirty deeds that were done to me have memories that are lasting and grow ever more cruel and mean. I wish a pristine story were mine without worry because then I’d run, but not in a hurry, towards grace, hidden away in that secret space a private place that sees a face shrouded in mystery, revealing to me in the depths of my own misery that life has room for waste to decay and fade away without racing everyday in a fit of frightful rage, every fear is assuaged, “cheer up my dear, I’m there at every age”. 

Dirty dread in my head like underwear filled with terror I wish a shower would scorch and scour the earth beneath which I cower for it does tower over me so, that ominous shadow, that looms and grows “nobody knows!” I wish I had been old enough to have hair there, perhaps it would have made the travesty less worse or a modicum less perverse, the song of whats wrong made right has not had its last verse sung for by then any record of history will be dried and wrung, having laid bare every secret thing that presides in the air, abolishing the evil wickedness of dreadful despair. 

Abandon your terror and enjoy joy it’s more then a toy for a little boy, it’s armor for a man that can understand grief as his core essence of belief. 

No more wandering, he has been illumined to the true nature of reality as annuls of history unfold a story of untold injury.

Be bold and blend into the bitter cold. 

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