| make your peace |
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things didn't work out the way you wanted.
somewhere along the line everything went wrong
and all those dreams you had—they seem so stupid now! -
are now lost in that infinite sea of possibilities
that never came to be.
maybe it was all your fault, and your current predicament
is due to a string of your failures, your inability
to take responsibility, to live up to the most minimal of expectations—
and thus you have become a blight on society, a tumor
to be excised by the court of law.
maybe not. maybe fate and circumstance conspired
to rob you of your dignity, the fruits of all of your hard work,
your family, your hope, even your good name.
either way, it would be hard not to be bitter
when every day is a vast desert of barren time, good only for
examining and reexamining the ruins of your broken past
and studying those who surround you, the finest examples
of ignominy, infamy, and dishonor around.
how it must ache, to be condemned
to this rank and unnatural garden of weeds! And yet
ultimately you are where you are, and the situation is what it is.
you can file endless appeals, work out to improve your form,
educate yourself, or try to atone for your misdeeds -
but the bars and guards still exist. your universe is still one of cold stone and iron.
the sky, the mountains, and the sea outside
are still abstract concepts, as inaccessible as the moon.
there is only one antidote to this poison:
accept the injustices, the mistakes, the corruption.
abandon your hatred of your cell, your fellow prisoners, your helplessness.
search for the unpolluted expanses of the sky, the mountains, and the sea within yourself.
be still and calm, the eye of the tornado.
make your peace.
it's the only way you'll ever be free.
somewhere along the line everything went wrong
and all those dreams you had—they seem so stupid now! -
are now lost in that infinite sea of possibilities
that never came to be.
maybe it was all your fault, and your current predicament
is due to a string of your failures, your inability
to take responsibility, to live up to the most minimal of expectations—
and thus you have become a blight on society, a tumor
to be excised by the court of law.
maybe not. maybe fate and circumstance conspired
to rob you of your dignity, the fruits of all of your hard work,
your family, your hope, even your good name.
either way, it would be hard not to be bitter
when every day is a vast desert of barren time, good only for
examining and reexamining the ruins of your broken past
and studying those who surround you, the finest examples
of ignominy, infamy, and dishonor around.
how it must ache, to be condemned
to this rank and unnatural garden of weeds! And yet
ultimately you are where you are, and the situation is what it is.
you can file endless appeals, work out to improve your form,
educate yourself, or try to atone for your misdeeds -
but the bars and guards still exist. your universe is still one of cold stone and iron.
the sky, the mountains, and the sea outside
are still abstract concepts, as inaccessible as the moon.
there is only one antidote to this poison:
accept the injustices, the mistakes, the corruption.
abandon your hatred of your cell, your fellow prisoners, your helplessness.
search for the unpolluted expanses of the sky, the mountains, and the sea within yourself.
be still and calm, the eye of the tornado.
make your peace.
it's the only way you'll ever be free.