Paris is Burning

Old things never suited me well. The wear and tear of time was something not appealing to me, except for when there is something eternal within the ancient walls. In that case, I wait for fire to come, to expose what was beneath the surface all along, something that will stay forever. Something golden waits. It melts, it reforms, it shines, it dulls, but it never leaves. The alchemy of what rests here will never change. The turning tables of time, ebb and flow like the ocean, sometimes calm, sometimes raging. Whatever this is, underneath the wood, it smooths with every touch. Salt water rubbing against it constantly make it the most precious stone of all. There are no blames placed on any ounce of water for the pain it causes, only thanks for the beautiful thing it becomes.

The old must pass away and the new must come anyway. The resistance, is a unnecessary stress that causes madness and grief. Scripturally even, God commanded a New Testament, because this is how the life he created works. The new thing, the thing that had been there all along, must come forth. Without it, life ends. So down with the wood, the murals, the statutes and set your eyes on the center of life.

Life stops for no one, it moves so quick, I’m just trying to remain soft and remember who I am. But like that stone, it isn’t the resisting of trouble that makes you glow, but the embracing of everything life offers that sets you free. I want to reverse the damage I’ve done, and begin again and live. I want to be okay.

Even though the purity is there, doesn’t mean it should be taken for granted and love will always save the day but I don’t want to give it more need for saving than enjoying.

The emotional relief for me, is expressing myself and being happy with the honesty I was able to get out. So let it out. And never keep it locked inside again.

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