Behold, O Monks, this is my last
advice to you:
All component things in this world are changeable. They
are not
lasting. Work hard to gain your own salvation. - Buddha
Life has a strange way about it, revealing it's innermost secrets at opportune times - and foreshadowing that which we cannot see.
For some, what we cannot see scares us, casting silhouettes on all they do. These people live lives in an isolation beyond their own comprehension, and within their cells, they pace frantically. They seek wisdom from within the cell in which they live, and so do not allow wisom from without their cells - since only what they understand may enter, they only allow what they understand to wander outside of their cell. In this way, they act as their own censor, and dare not think otherwise, for to do so would be beyond their realm of comprehension. To think otherwise would mean the collapse of their cell, which has become something that they treasure.
Others venture, roaming beyond their respective cells, and tease the inmates that fear leaving their cells. They watch and grade everything the inmates stuck in their cells do, and smirk knowingly - they know that everyone holds the key to their own cell, and that it exists outside of the cell. Venturing into the unknown gives you the key. These others sit there and mock the others, unwittingly creating a new cell for themselves - for they are tied to the people that they mock. Yet, they do serve a purpose - without them, people would not think that they could escape their own cells.
Still others stand outside the Asylum, uncertain of their journey beyond the Walls, yet they are certain that they are no longer within the Asylum. They do not tease, because that would mean looking back. Still they ae lost, egotistically counting pronouns with reckless abandon, and in doing that, they build themselves a new Asylum.
Of these, there are fewer that choose a destination - and even fewer who move toward their destination. They constantly move, as their destination does, in the hope that they can move faster than their destination.
Even fewer of these others realize that the destination is no more than a carrot - yet they have the fortitude to transcend the written or spoken word. These people simply are, and live to be.
In writing the poems contained in Breaking The Asylum, I've written from all of the perspectives. I am not trapped in one of these classifications; I am trapped in all of them - and still, at times I am free of all of them. They simply are, as I simply am.
Enjoy.
Mihi ignosce. Cum homine de cane debeo congredi.
All written information, unless otherwise noted, is copyright Taran Rampersad, 1999-2002. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized redistribution of this document or content is prohibited.
