Can I struggle amidst the words of Milton and find my way to Paradise?
I have battled my own demons, fought others to save my own life. I have faced the reaper and managed to walk away.
Angels watch over me and I see the eye in the clouds. I know which way the sun sets and look for it to guide me.
I have felt the cold of darkness, the acid of bitter tears that eat my flesh to the bone.
I have faded into a vapor but managed to resurface again like a pheonix and rise with hopes yet again to find my way in the never ending levels of this life that was made for me.
I can hear it. It never leaves me. I can hear it all around me."How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator?-Paradise Lost.
I try not to stray to far into the world of the Epicurean, but fly now more toward the winds of transcedental thoughts and of symbiotic religion. I feel love from above just as I have felt the pain and hate from the bowels below. I want to soar again and fly to an Olympus in which all are not gods but great men and women. I want to sit in a toga and talk of good things, of change that brings fruition, of how we are all of one cloth, how we all bleed red, how we all must learn to see.
I see how we can all lose our way never realizing we always had a path to Paradise if we choose to see it, and believe in it. I have failed in all the signs put before me. I walked past the caution tape and the blinking yellow lights.
I had to fall hard, feel the crush of my windpipe, feel the squeeze on my heart. I had to walk away from people, from circumstances, I had to lose pieces of myself to them every time. I had to glue back what was left of myself and journey on alone toward the great unknown braving the elements of doubt, uncertainty, of devils who wear disguises, of imps who sprinkle dust in my eyes, of warlocks who put spells on my heart hoping I do not cast them aside. I had to hear the cackles of hate daily of not just me but of mankind. I have seen hate in so many forms. Some seemed outwardly so noble, so fair of heart.
We all have ways to rise above raging waters of the Styx, we've all paid the ferryman and seen those dismal shores. But few have climbed the highest peak, pushed legs to another tier, made their mind and heart stronger than it was weak. Our bodies will endure.
We do not reach out into the world for another for we fear the risk is too great. We become islands drifting further out to sea. We seek refuge in what little we can control in uncontrollable odds.
I am going to get my feathers singed again along the way. That is for certain. I may lose my direction and falter in the storms. I may take refuge and rest for I need it but I will fly on and one day settle my wings down in the sandy shores and re-gain my lost Paradise.