Who am I and what is my purpose?

I ask these questions daily, partaking in the game of life. Slaving away in search of capital gain, I wallow in psychological pain of the contradictions of living. I write to escape, if this scene is a stage then bare witness to my soliloquies.

 

Grandmother often said, 'What is in your head they can never take away.' Giving breath to absence, breaking bread with butter in toast to what being a pauper taught me. She brought me to church every Saturday, I will soon honour the sabbath. The Lord walks with me, I know his advice but go by my own guidance.

 

Guided by a dying light, I know my days are numbered. Thats why my passages are named after numerals. Handling precious minerals, my memories slip through my fingers as gold dust falls into the sand dial. Hands clasping my face, there is a diamond in my forehead. I see the vision.

 

Welcome to an attempt at emancipation. Slavery has been abolished but the man I am still partakes in shackled behaviours.

 

Sincerely yours,

AJG