What I do not understand, what I can not control-
is divine to me.
Until I’m a stranger to myself,
Until my mind is a mystery,
Until my thoughts remain my incharge;
I believe there’ll be a god in me.
And he’ll be just like the other Gods.
All powerful and corrupt.
He shall deal in prayers, but not answer a single one-
And he shall play me like a puppet.
And I being a god-fearing man, will oblige.
Wrung tight, dangling helpless in the web of my dreams.
And he shall make me endure things.
Punish me by the whip of my desires and whims.
Bend and shape me for my weak flesh and fickle mind.
He shall deliver on his promise of suffering and hell.
And he shall call that forced normal- a life.
He shall show me how pessimists are created.
And I shall believe him.
Until I’m numb to the pain, and can not feel anything.
Until I’m a sadist capable of inflicting it on my own.
Until I’m a magician capable of conjuring misery out of my mind and not run from it.
Until I’m able to bend the uncontrolled and derive pleasure from it.
Until I’m able reject the idea of a painless life.
Until I’m able to suffer voluntarily for the pursuit of my dreams.
Until then I shall be the prisoner of pain.
Until then I shall envy God.
After that I’ll write the truth.
And they’ll call my pain discipline.
And I’ll understand, I don’t need to be godly or divine.
Once I accept that, I’ll find the infinite power there is to being a man;
And then, I’ll begin to understand life.
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