Fear
not, my words.
Fear not the hour you were born or the piece of paper you were carefully, carelessly or precariously committed to. Fear not the thought that engendered you or the hesitation that endangered you. Fear not the fingers that typed you or the pen that scribbled you. Fear not the blocks that held you back. Fear not.
Fear not the hour you were born or the piece of paper you were carefully, carelessly or precariously committed to. Fear not the thought that engendered you or the hesitation that endangered you. Fear not the fingers that typed you or the pen that scribbled you. Fear not the blocks that held you back. Fear not.
You will
be read. You will be ignored. You will be celebrated, reviled and detested. You
will be tested. Fear not. Fear not the eyes that take you in, or the mouths
that spit you out. The blinks of disbelief, the stares of discontent, the nods
of appreciation and the muted gaze of indifference. They will greet you one and
the same.
Fear
not the cynicism you carry or the cynics you attract. Fear not the love you
foster or the fury you proclaim. There is a weight on your shoulders and it is
heavy. Only a few will see it but it is there nonetheless. You’ll be great
company on a good day and on another, a speck in the distance. On a bad
day, you will preach.
You will
cross lines. You will pass judgment. You will condone and condemn and be the
only shred of solace one has to cling to. You will skimmed through, skipped
altogether or spent entire days with. You will cloud thinking and rain fresh perspective.
You will crush notions and renew hope. You will not retreat. You will provoke.
Fear
not the chuckles you invite or the curses that drop by anyway. They will never
be enough. Fuck the distractions and the four-letter frowns. You have a
purpose. To set minds spinning and enter conversations and contemplations with
the subtle force of an honest intention. You will lift songs and power into speech. Speeches, someday.
You will
be treasured. You will be forgotten. You will strike someone like a bolt of
lightning and stay buried under an avalanche of inconsequence until someone
else unearths you by accident. But, you won’t have aged. You are immortal, the
bright beacon of a beating heart. You travel to places my feet will never set
foot on.
Fear not
the strangers you speak to or the strangeness you bring out in them. You are a plot
to my mind and the key to its deceptions. You are my strongest hand and my
deepest tell. Let us play like we always have. Without reason, often with. You have
been my privilege to write and my pleasure to convey. You will be questioned.
I
believe in you.
