My Special Ability (For all writers of the heart)

Inability is about the most sad thing imaginable. Inability to care, to wish, to imagine...it always leads to, failure. Usually grand failures that are marred by the worst regret that can emerge as a result of the human condition. It's inability that holds me prisoner. I linger here teetering on the brink of greatness, nothing escapes me, not the sheer power of all this magnificence that stands before me or the deep dark fears that lurk behind it. All of a sudden I cannot make a choice. Something that I do automatically on a daily basis becomes this ritualistic ceremony that seeks to define and alter all of existence as I know it. Maybe, I think, just maybe this paralysis of the soul is brought on by the fact that I want to remain puny and unaccomplished. I want to dwell in that realm where it is okay to mess up, it's expected, I am human after all.

So I remain bound here by my invisible fears, fears of a new beginning and an old ending. Hating myself for making this choice, by not making a choice. Wanting to change and being...unable to.

So maybe I think that the things that I believe in are not as worth while as the things that others believe, that they are...lesser beliefs. That maybe its okay to hold me down here, toiling away on the bare minimum, getting by on scraps. Its okay to be restricted, imprisoned, uninspired to soar any greater than you allow me to.

The scars remain, they are the source. A reminder of my classical conditioning, telling me that there is nothing I can do in the face of it all. That so much power would only corrupt me. That I should be happy that I am meek and humbled by this weakness. That this is where I belong, head down and cowering. That fighting will only lead to more scars or even death, after all who is not afraid of death? And yet behind all of it a question remains, why am I not afraid to live this life?

Behind it all I think, why should I not have a legacy? Why should I not stand tall and scream, assert my birthright. What is the difference between me and you that I am not allowed to have your selfishness and ambition, that I am not allowed to have your passion? Why am I not allowed to be right? Why am I not allowed to be wrong, given a chance to corrupt myself fully, a chance to enslave, a chance to rule?

And so I remain in the shadows, for the good of the world. Having no claim to a title that rests on my head. A mock king of a sad lost pathetic universe where nothing ever changes. A milky way of stars, merely the remnants of previous civilizations. Lights of memories that were before the pain.

I stand before you being unable to tell you the truth, about my anger, my frustrations, my disappointment.

I stand before you being unable to ask you to love me, because of a past that we never shared and because of a pride, mainly that.

I stand before you being unable to tell you that if you were to ever go, it would break me in a ways that I have thought of and would never want to endure.

I stand before you being unable to tell you that I wanted to be proud of you that day and you let me down.

I stand before you being unable to say that I am sorry if you ever felt that you wasted years on me, that I never believed in you. I was being stupid.

I stand here before you being unable to acknowledge that there is a great divinity in this life but that I have always wanted to have human accomplishments. Being unable to accept that the worst of this world is still something that I accept and carry on believing that in the midst of all the chaos and hopelessness and destruction I could never give up hope that one day you will see it too as I see it now.

We are capable, we are worthy of all this responsibility that comes with imperfection.

After all here it all stands.