Where Do I Stand?

Those are but lofty dreams a person like me needs more than a life to pay for. Too much to die and too
less to live. And what happens after I proclaim my self worthy? Or maybe it is the answer, but it is one of those many things that you have to reasonably reconsider. I do not have the privileges of the mighty. I am only the majority, feeding into what a can can contain, counting my change very carefully, fighting perspectives with my life and silencing things pleasurable to sustain the curse betrothed in exchange
for a lifetime membership into the disillusioned exclusivity of middle-class living. I am a member of the
working class, a revolutionary on the brink of madness, angry, but nevertheless and because there remains no other choice, fighting for a freedom I myself cannot fathom. But maybe, the freedom for a life filled with integrity, that no matter how small you are reduced, every minute this materially-driven world defines you, you remain unchanged, neither becoming evil or frail. Just sturdy like a banyan tree, incognizant of people's distorted classification of what life or success or being a total failure is all about. Sometimes you see yourself in a vision, time slowed, with arms outstretched, reaching for the inaccessible and the faster you run after it, the farther the images retreat  into the oblivion. Is it a thing to be pitied? But pity and being pitied remain a relative state ascribing  to the strength of what truly defines your thoughts. The pain of not feeling the joy that their eyes speak of while you are slowly diminished by the curse of preservation - the demarcation blurs between what is accepted just or unjust - and you realize that in the end, out of all the damned things you have strived to understand, there lies a dissolving mystery that marks the true quality of reality.