And what of my ascension?
It’s become evident that I’m grounded on this plane, never to depart.
I go back and forth with love, lust, and envy.
Each depraved emotion or instinct
a ten-pound weight
ensuring that I’ll never leave this horrid place.
My involvement with myself,
my attachment to my emotions,
and my passive agreement with how to process them
reveal to me that I have much growing yet to do.
I get upset, triggered, riled up.
My third-person observation shows
immense immaturity
and a rife lack of self-awareness.
So what of my ascension?
Can you not see I’m bound to this plane—
its ways, its values?
Doomed to reincarnate
until I can divorce myself from my petulance.
I’ve fixated a great deal on how I look.
It’s a pathetic, preening, predictable state.
For what physical self is worth that much attention,
that much emotional involvement,
when it is but a fleeting thing?
My desires are the least of my weights,
yet they twist and turn me
like winds in the Atlantic.
Oh yes,
I’d like to ascend.
But to be frank—
that will not be happening anytime soon.
Leave a Reply