~PRELUDE NO.2~
 

Prelude NO.2 - For we are a wave, a self, and our misery the ocean, our society.
 

Our “Newcomer’s Cycle” is fulfilled. Returning to our genesis, we find a small pocket of air in which we can finally draw breath. We vomit poison and seawater, and we sweat metal, nerve gas and advertisements. Our re-oxygenated brain begins to work again and begins to process what is left of its own thoughts. It thinks of our bargain; of the requisitioning or our sight, of our disillusioned introduction to society’s true face, and of the seabed and its tempting offer of sweet slumber.  

 

Within the shadow of pure fear, we begin feeling again, taking all of it in for the first time as a connected whole. We look at our brittle, desiccated bodies and see the results of the grooming we have experienced; like a tree in a hurricane, we are broken and beaten. We can now see our own mortality. From this observation, we realize we finally have a choice. The choice of living was not possible without reinvention, but now we see reinvention as possible. What seemed inevitable is perhaps not; perhaps we are not destined to lie on the seabed as a barnacle on someone else’s canvas, succumbing to the desire of society and the pull of the riptide. If we have indeed regained our eyesight, how will the ocean appear to us now? What will its aspect be when it inevitably calls us back? 

 

Is hate one of the feelings that we find on the seabed, beneath the waves and far from air? Or is it a feeling we take to the depths inside of us, and does not the water eventually choke it from those of us who are committed to our dive? Do we hate them for the state they left us in?