various musings

A perimeter of trees obstructs my vision; tall and omnipotent under the dark pits of the night sky. Gods’ surveillance cameras tower over us little people; barricade our knowledge of the beyond. They may be pine trees. I don’t know their type, nor do I care. Walking down the cracked concrete path in this still night, I feel imprisoned, suffocated in the land of the free. I long for the open expanse of the desert, the cold air furiously blowing against my body, threatening to bombard me with thousands of rough sand particles, as my eyes scan the treacherous Gulf and the never-ending horizon. There’s so much beauty in the stark nakedness of life. Strip me off my clothes and you will see my beauty too.

Yellow leaves swirl and twirl to the ground. They dance their last ritual. It is as if Demeter never stopped mourning her sweet Persephone. Oh Demeter. No one prays to you anymore. You have been long forgotten, and not long after, you forgot about us. Can anyone blame you? Even lovers learn to hate. Even mothers learn to abandon. Even fathers learn to bury their daughters alive. No wonder our Gods forget us, thought us a dream, a divine hallucination.

As I walk, I stretch my right arm across and spread my fingers. I trace along the wall of trees that separate the university from the avenue bustling with cars. It’s a long walk tonight. It’s a long walk every night. My fingers play with the falling leaves. Death infests the land of the living. Decaying leaves freefall to their unhappy ends. Soon, they will see the intricate details of the soles of someone’s boots. Soon, their backs will be snapped under the steps of an unknowing student, absorbed in his own thoughts, whistling to the tunes bellowing into his head. Men never notice their step, or who they’re stepping on.

What a joke, the whole lot of them: men. They’re all self-absorbed, righteous bastards. As am I. Of course, am I not a wo-‘man’? Was I not created from Adam’s rib? Ridiculous how people believe in stories meant to brainwash them. I wasn’t created out of any man’s rib. I was created in my mother’s womb. Ask any doctor and they will tell you its true.
In my mother’s womb I was protected as I grew my eyes and ears. The echoes of her humming voice soothed me. I am the product of love, not the product of deception. My mother’s intelligence was far more superior than to listen to a ‘snake’ hiss something about some rotten apple. She preferred oranges. More importantly, father never blamed his failures and bad decisions on my mother. He blamed them on his.

We inherit our religions like we inherit money, or our mother’s china. We do not choose our religion. We never do, even if we convert. We’re just claiming someone’s inheritance as our own. It’s a cultural sham, a theft of the abstract, and a violent rape of ideology. The only way out is to deny your inheritance and conjure up the wrath of your family. Do you think yourself superior to what they have to offer?

We need a new religion. One that fits the world we live in today. However, this means we have to create a new god, but shouldn’t it to be the other way around. Shouldn’t we be the ones created by god? Blasphemous is free thought. Blasphemous indeed.

by Urvasi
Disclaimer: Read with open-mind. Views expressed are not those of the author.