The Cry of the Isolated and Free

The Cry of the Isolated and Free

There is no joy in subjugation.
There is even less joy to be had for those who remain subjugated willingly, for fear of what may otherwise become of them.
Theirs is a peace of pieces. It can never be whole.
As they go, they mock and scorn those whose paths run askew to their own; nervous laughter escapes their throats as they suppress their own soul’s desire to do likewise.
The vision they hold–the fear of rejection, trials, and discomfort–of walking such a path are not unfounded. Deep inside, the spirit knows the truth of such a life it so desperately longs to walk. Likewise, it is full aware of the final destination and the reward of taking on such an undesirable, albeit temporary lifestyle.
Nevertheless, it falls to each of us to be, as it were, or not to be victims of our own weak, fleshly bodies.
For those who seek higher things, who see this life clearly as the temporary and imperfect reality that it is, more discomfort is welcome here–and with open arms–if indeed it finds the answer to bring it forever to an end and re-establish the highest existence possible.
Mourn not those who pass on.
Mourn those who live as if this is all there be.

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