It all starts with nothing. That’s when I come, where I begin. First it was all darkness and pain. Excruciating. Merciless, but nevertheless a part of me. What I was. What I would bring to people. What had always belonged to me, in some ways defined me. Then there was the illumination, beautiful and embracing, bringing with it an illusion of safety. Then, times of oblivion.
That was my beginning, I who am known as change, transition, metamorphosis, sometimes new beginnings, and sometimes lingering endings. I have always been there, will be there forever even when time or the web of Maya have ceased to exist for I have created them, molded them and shaped them. Turned them into whatever exists now. For I am the beginning and the end, the start and the finish. I never end, because I am the creator, the one who creates it.
I have had a cursed life, I continue to do. I never come to the end on my time. I had to condemn lives of toil to nothing, to give meaningless souls fortunes. I hurt petite children, beautiful innocent things that are the very embodiment of joy. Yes I even had to kill hope through these lovely beings. But I try to rectify my weakness. Yes I do have shortcomings. But all those creatures that I give life, they are thankless. They don’t see my beauty and grandeur. They blame all their losses on me. They hate me for whom or rather what I am. They don’t realize my pain. And they never see the way I bring joy.
The ways I turn the shadowy night into the clear bright day, an icy blizzard into a graceful swoop of wind trying to balance a leaf in its caressing arms, all these are to be overlooked. The delicate touches with which I transform an unpleasant caterpillar into an exquisite butterfly, a ball of gases into a sparkling star are petty compared to my crimes. Oh no, they never see what I do, only the things I wouldn't do. All they see is my negative half. The side that eclipses the good one, though I don’t know how. They see and remember only the times I bring to them hurt, treachery, peril, sorrow and wounds to them, the ones I am embarrassed to call my children. They hated me and by hating I hated the very aspect of life. They told me to stop and in some ways top I did. Because they changed me into something I am not someone I barely knew, something that murdered the little happiness in me. They turned me into what I am now. Turmoil.
Okay I know this is too metaphorical. But I don't have time to cook anything else up. But I will be writing a lot once my exams get over. That is this Friday. Woohooooooooo! So 'sbohem'. (Czech)