Reading Time: 5 min
Last week I shared a post called Fifty Days of Grief. This post is a spiritual successor to it.
I traversed umpteen worlds,
Some mundane,
Some mystical.
Longed for a saviour,
In faraway lands,
To cut open tied
Entangled Fate’s strands.
The demons of my darkness waiting to be slayed,
The songs of my soul eager to be played.
No one to be found,
I came back alone.
No strength, no courage, no will; all begone.
I gaze in the mirror, the abyss stares back,
Untold fiends I fight, I fell off track.
Living unnervingly under shadowy skies
I wait for a hero in me to rise.
To battle the doom, for dark’s demise.
To deliver me from pain, to empathize.
I sing this song till then, to harmonize,
Like a restrained rhapsodizing reprise.
There is no saviour
There is no saviour. No one is coming to our rescue. No one will come to save us from the prison that we build for ourselves. No one will solve our problems. To hope for a saviour, to hope for a hero is an empty hope. To hope for a hero is to cover ourselves with a blanket on a cold night praying the night passes. But the darkness and cold are least of the worries. We forget we are somewhere near the south pole and it is going to get colder irrespective of how thick the blanket is. This comfort is not comfortable. This comfort just leaves us inactive to do what is necessary.
Suffering is a part of our lives, but when we suffer, most times we hope and pray that some miracle will come along if we wallow long enough in our adversity, and bring us out. This is just a lie. A lie we believe as we watch on the side-lines as our lives are squandered along while we inch towards the finality and all the unrealized potential we have gets lost with time.
WAKE UP. There is no miracle. There is no saviour. You are the saviour. You are the hero.
Please do leave a comment below and tell me your thoughts. This image is from Blue Lagoon, Iceland. Follow me on Instagram for more travel photographs.