On another page entitled About the Author, I defined myself through my childhood and teen-aged accomplishments, and my books. But the truth is that none of that is me.
You deserve better.
I am immortal, just like you. I’m everywhere and not going anywhere, just like you. I am capable of creating whatever I like, like you. And I can know anything — the same way you and you and you can.
We are the makers of space, time, matter and energy; we choose not to know that because we want to play games, and knowing that would ruin the games. (Why play if you already know the outcome?)
I am who am. You are who are. Always was… always will be. Endless.
The thing is, I never forgot these things. I ran around with my little boy body, telling whomever would listen — my brothers and sisters, my parents — “Life is a chance itself,” and “If you can dream it, you can create it.”
Heady stuff for a little tyke. Only, I felt ageless. I knew I was ageless. Just like you.
Then I grew older, finding my beauty and defining my spaces with small things and moments: my crush on the ‘girl-next-door’ who loved the Beatles and, I thought, me. Beauty in helping my Mom make pancakes in the kitchen, or scrubbing her tiles floor because the cleaned ones fascinated me with their altered states.
Beauty in quiet moments — hours, really — spent in my favorite trees out back behind our house, when I could contemplate my thoughts and create rhymes that would never see the light of day; yet, they were like sharpened pencils, waiting for better word combinations to actually write down, to add to my legacy.
I never forgot me… or you. Your spirituality never goes away. It never did, never will.
No, I am not defined by what I commit to paper with pencils or pens or typed symbols on a computer screen, or even iphones.
I am just me… and you are just you.
I am not my thoughts, my body, arms, legs, torso or head. I am not behind the ‘windows of the soul,’ though we all like to think so. No, I am not something you can see, but you can know me.
And when I feel known, it is the best feeling. It is exonerating, freeing me of all my past sins: the things I’ve been and done and had while living the lies as an endless truth that pretended to be what it is not.
Committed to paper and screen, words cannot rearrange themselves and they mean nothing. It takes you and me to come along and give them meaning and life.
Words are mortal idlings which only immortal beings can breathe life into.
Nothing I have written here defines me or you, but we share our freedom to let them do just that.
You see, in between these trappings — words — is where you will find me, understand me. The same way I find and understand you. In between: YES! There’s the real stuff!
Knowing is a silent, invisible blanket, but it warms us.
February 5, 2014
Copyright 2014 by Ron Kule, Poet and KuleBooks LLC. All Rights Reserved.