Of savage findings

Often did I sometimes perch myself on one of those pyramidical cylinders at the park and wondered if all I could see was all I needed to know of this life. I lost count what I did back then but I did remember that I was a foolish little boy who once played the truant to escape the humdrum school days. Or the bullies.

I was young. Impressionable. In my pride and foolhardiness I tempted my luck too many times over and have walked away from a past while not filled with regrets, was something I would be hard-pressed to admit I was proud of.

Overly melodramatic, perhaps. Frankly honest, yes.

When I looked back on things now with eyes more seasoned towards thirty cycles of the sun, I feel like laughing at myself. Was I that absorbed in my own self-importance? Lackaday. If I'd met that boy now I would've been spitting on him. And with great relish. In retrospect, it is good to realize that we were once fools. Just that some of us would prefer not to relish the process!

It was a painful realization that I realized that whatever small capacity I had for feeling--save anger and rage--died with someone dear to me. No, I will not name names, for they're unneeded--nor pertinent--at this point. It was even more painful that whatever glimmer of light I chanced upon should tantalize me with a whispered spark ... but I am swimming aloone in these cold depths. Like the Eskimos, I have my Sedna chasing me from beyond the murky deeps.

I would like to style myself as Robinson Crusoe inside my head, that I'll find that lost savage within me and cleave him to the light.

Only when darkness meets the light will I be balanced.