The life and struggle of a Gorillachimp

…yearning the freedom of flight. A freedom that gives the sense of being free in thought, free in mind, free in spirit. But some of us are born with only one wing. Crippled… different… vulnerable… impeded from the grandeur of touching the clouds and reaching the heights that allows us to see a wider perspective of our lives. Thus narrowly we walk the earth, not being able to look very far nor travel the unlimited journeys our hearts and mind are capable of. We are not here nor are we there. We wait as we long, we long as we wait. Some may say “Sure you can fly with only one wing, what’s the problem?” and be indifferent to the aerodynamics of the heart and mind. Once in a while we choose to believe those words and time after time we try and we try again as we fail and fail again, harder yet number for every time. And as we mend our wounds, we spend our lives looking for the one with the wing to match. Only then and only together will we be able to fly and reach the heights that has been denied to us for so long. If that day finally comes it will be a great day and the flight, a magnificent one.

Find happiness or die trying.

When the echo of our words has silenced

And the dreams caper on to newer meadows

All that remains are fading silhouettes with shadows of remorse

But in the forgotten tears that hid in our hearts

We’ll find our happiness

And in its reminiscence

The appreciation that our paths once crossed in a dream of love.

…but as it turned to the present and slowly transformed to a past, I didn’t recognize it anymore. How fickle it is. Yet we put so much trust in the promises the future makes but rarely keeps. It moves like a wind eroding it’s way through our lives, sometimes like a warm, soothing and gentle breeze, sometimes like a hurricane destroying all in its path and as such, it leaves traces of all the roads it made us travel on, crafting us to what we have to face in the mirror every day. So as it moves in this merciless  forward motion all we can do is to hold on by teeth and nails and hope for the future to become the present we wished for and a past to make us smile even at the end of days.

Will we make it? Well… the future holds the answer to that and he who lives long enough will eventually find out… the easy way… or the hard way.

…and tiny electrical impulses, almost too weak to measure, are finding new paths, new combinations, exploring new possibilities as the days linger on. Synapses, the cerebral highways of thought – the very core of our inner being, if you will… how marvelous they are, how frightful they are… They make us and they break us. They are the creators of timeless literature, poetry, symphonies, they are able to create that which is only limited to our own imagination and create bonds between living things words only can not describe. Yet  they hold the power to deceive us, play vicious games with our minds and create patterns of thought like monsters, eating their way through our sacred sanity.

As such they made me a shadow of my own existence. I became the gravel of my own mountain, the fading echo of a word of love, I was the silent whisper of a scream of joy. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in the rain. It’s time to die… so I can live again. Today everything has a new meaning. Today I am here. Today, I am… and I’m here to stay.