//Distinction//

The ability to foresee the risk versus the gain is what makes my mind clear. Through prayer and humility, all answers reveal themselves. Quietly, indefinitely. In time.

At our birth, we are expelled from our mother's womb. Harvested. Bloomed. Ready to pluck.
Tabula rosa. Undefined. We have no names. No sin. No thoughts. Only sensation. This sensation is extremely high. Our brains are fresh, cells, rapidly reproducing. Heart, fragile. We have no fears or hang ups about what people think of us. We don't even know what people are. We are alien to all of humanity, and its volatile nature.

Life and experience mold us. We are palpable beings. Young spirits. Easily lead. Or misled.
By default, we know nothing but what we are taught to know. Thinking philosophically for a half second--Plato's Cave . If you have never seen it, undoubtedly it will be more difficult for you to grasp. As anything unheard of.

I am, two years old.
The blinding layer of protective skin that shielded my eyes from pain is removed.
Peripheral vision restored. The only problem is, I don't know quite how to use it.

Sensory information is how many of us attach ourselves to reality. If we cannot feel it,
or better yet, our brains cannot feel it, it is as good as invisible. I'm not talking What The Bleep Do We Know here. I'm talking in context of simple internal perspective. We exist through our feelings. But our feelings are so interchangeable. How do we build solidarity within ourselves?

Two years old means very little in this world.
I can feed myself, I can push forward, but I'm still trying to put all the puzzle
pieces together. I know the conventional way is not the best way, but as I figure
out what way is the best way, I stumble from time to time. Just learning to hold on
to my things. Just learning what it means to be am an adult. Just learning how to
protect myself mentally, physically, and metaphysically. No matter how far I run
from my reality, the closer on me it sticks. Like the smell of freshly chopped garlic
underneath your skin. I am still learning and growing. In spurts I see myself jumping.
What was once dire is not anymore. I have Jah first and foremost. Not boys. Not
friendships. Friendship is a funny place. A place in which extreme love must exist.
But all of my friends know my spiritual journey persists. I am not leaving Jehovah's side.
I know too many people that are so lost, they try to find their own way, not seeing that end of the tunnel, it's all the same. I know my tone here is somewhat morbid, maybe bleak and too
descriptive, however each one of us is entitled to our story. Our perspective. I expect no
one to tell me otherwise. I expect to continue on this quest. I expect to persist with my spiritual growth.

I can remember all the years I lived for you.
Knowing nothing better to be true, I could have cared less.
That twinkle in my eyes, she told me God's light was shining inside me.
His child.
These days, I'm not so angsty, so childish, so self serving.
These years flutter by, cloud after cloud. Day after day. Blink after blink.
My voice is getting louder. My walk prouder. My reason, stronger.
I remember when he held me through the night.
And I felt safe there.
I can't say the same these days.
I can't stay the same at all.
And all we know about each other is fading.
A dying wind, meant to stir up somewhere else. (In someone else's life.)
For the first time.
I can admit to myself and the rest of the world,
all I hear is the sound of my heart beating.
With each pulsation I recognize myself a little bit more steadily.
All I have is what I was blessed with.
Nothing is above or beneath any of us.
Those that struggle less, are often more fortunate.
Clean water. Trees. Grass Sunshine.
See. Smell. Taste. Touch. Listen.
Balance. Family. Friends.
A creation, as pencil touching paper.
We are not accidents. We are not here by chance.
But our lives are limited, and how we exist in
them even more so. It is the moment we acknowledge this,
that we begin to wake up. We are really free to do anything.
There is always a way. It may not be easy, or obvious,
or even practical, but it does exist.
In this tiny universe in which we comprehend,
one day we will admit we know nothing, and that we don't age
merely by year, but by principle.