The Wild of Life

Deciding to lose myself in overwhelming thought I step outside my house and begin to take a walk, the brisk stroll leads me to the railroad station; a center hub amongst endless pathways to other worlds. Tracks in every direction invite me to choose a path, take a journey to an unknown destination. The art of the urban underlife catches my attention. Scribbled and scrawled across the walls and walkways are detailed descriptions of life portrayed through the eyes of those who see more than the bland of black and white. Their views are quite marvelous, marvelously insane; but what is insanity? I too once believed myself to be crazy. Stalking the normality I perceived to be hidden in the streets, like it was a cure. Finding truth on every cracked sidewalk and in every stray beast that life brought my way.

It was all pointless mind you, pointlessly necessary in the sense that it showed me who I really was, or who I thought I wanted to be. Not realizing until it was too late that the ropes holding together the bridge bound to freedom were really the mastermind snakes enslaving me. Joining the dregs and wrecks of society as together we traveled towards oblivion, collecting debt on our souls with every step. With weed lining our pockets and cigarettes held firmly between our lips we searched for the harlot known as cloud nine. That magical place where the weather was always fine and happiness could be found at the drop of a dime. No matter the day, no matter the hour.

The drugs brought the mind to towering heights where we deemed ourselves untouchable. We stood tall like giants looming over the population beneath, laughing at the humans we saw through our distorted view. Never once did we take into consideration that the overlord of this seemingly safe haven was digging a hole to Hades that was to be our home for the rest of eternity. These fleeting fancies, for that is all they were, would never save us, could never save anyone. This little bit of knowledge in our search for infinite wisdom always seemed to elude us. That something was waiting for us at the end of a wasted life never even crossed our minds, we were too caught up in the good times. With my head full of old memories I see that my feet have taken me to the rusted bridge overlooking the highway.

Desperate feelings creep up next to me and remind me that if it ever got too heavy all it would take would be a single jump. One simple leap would send me soaring into the streets underneath. Turning to face them I quietly state that the notion of suicide was forgotten long ago in the glory of saving grace. Seeing that they had no more room to roam free in me the vile spirits departed. Looking out over the busy lanes I am brought back to the evening when the king set my soul free, and that familiar wave of peace only the Holy Spirit can bring washes over me.

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