By ROTEM LITINSKI
I know this creature, this figure, that likes to stand tall. Let pen hit temple hit paper and the words flow nonstop — a Riverbed not stifled. Standing tall like a leader, back never arched. The posture of a royal, the mind of the sagacious being. Taking all on itself and enjoying the coupled recognition. Each step bearing more and more until the path is swallowed and the creature is left on the cliff, left to scramble for its forgotten memory:how to jump. And suddenly, the world that seemed so organized and so put together fit an entirely different mold; a mold of jumping of coping and of misconception. Of unidentification. Those so easy to turn to slowly dissipated and the routinely manner of patterned life costumed itself. Problem after conflict after ache it seemed — they couldn’t stop piling atop each other. And with each newly placed brick, the being weighed lower, sunk deeper, grew more lost. The creature cries over what is seemingly gone, but simply not present. Weeps over what is no longer in its possession. Is ashamed of work put in that never amounts to its expectation-how could it have?
But it was all so close, a touch away, looming…
Alas, laws that govern our logic prove that what is weighed down so, will break.
I know this creature that is locked up in a relentless prison known as the mind of society, the eyes of the world, the heart of humanity, and the hands of mankind’ s soul. This creature is not lost but yet to be found. Still figuring out a path that it can recite in its sleep.
Trust you know this creature too.