Tuesday, November 20, 2007

3 of Swords

Of all the lies we tell ourselves, the worst are the ones that cut the deepest.

In the darkest hour of our existance, we live within a chamber with no windows, no light, no hope. It is a chamber made of stone walls to keep everything out and it keeps everything in.

Away from the glare of a hundred thousand eyes, this is where our mask comes off and the true self emerges yeilding shards of a broken sword. It is here that we try to cut out our own hearts because we tell ourselves that if we cannot heal the wound; then at the very least, we can stop the pain.

Think you this room belongs to another? Nay... it lies in the seat of your heart as it does in mine. If only we knew how deeply we hurt ourselves with the rusty sword named Delusion; we may discard it in favor of an ounce of truth.

For in the end, it is truth that cauterizes the wound even if it heightens the pain and it stops us from bleeding ourselves dry.