To be at home

I’ve never been to the beach.
I think I get the general picture.
I can feel the spray, if I try.
The concept isn’t that foreign to me.
The great force displayed and reestablished with every surge;
Yeah, I’ve seen that before.
I’ve seen what it’s like to watch the whole landscape,
everything in your view,
Come crashing down on you,
Without your consent.
I have felt the struggle,
The attempt to break free of the icy clutches of the omnipresent life-force,
Only to get dragged down,


But there was a prophet,
One who crafted the shoes I’m stepping into,
He claimed, with great passion and charisma:
“There is hope yet!
All is not lost, children and fathers, alike.
There is salvation for our mothers,
And redemption for our sisters.
We are sparks,
Separated by time and space,
Distanced by the means of those who seek to consume us,
To extinguish our Light.
They convince us that we are alone,
None out there in this cold, damp Hell share our thoughts.
Crazy, they say.
But insanity resonates more truthfully.
We are insane,
For the simple fact that we desire a change in the mode of thought. Simply because we desire to escape the foundation that has been laid out before us, and create our own world without the flaws of the past, to put in the flaws of the current age, so that we might at least understand them, to correct the mistakes that we recognize as mistakes so as to improve our condition and the conditions of our fellow sparks, because we want something more, we are insane.
We are not seeking an Eutopia,
We are not aiming for perfection.
What we want is a life on our own terms.
A world that belongs to us.
To be at home with the world, rather than long-term visitors.”

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