old gods

i suffer and i err.

i am struck with pain these days.

i think in a way i am stuck in

the oldest mythology, i accuse the archetype of parents, 

of these very old gods who created and destroy me 

at their will, 

they sit together on Olympus , 

needy of entertainment they show off their creatures 

to the other Gods. It is a game, they laugh or they get 

violently angry as the game goes on. 

They win or lose, 

their creatures have no choice.
The old Gods are mental realities, hungry ghosts
with a greed for blood, sacrifice, submission-
and they stay in us when we will not throw out their thrones. 

And i shout at them, i refuse the life as given by them. 

I try to destroy myself, the gift of this my life-

though i need not do it.

I keep smoking in rebellion against life 

and to numb my false perception, 

rebellion against these gods, parental dictatorial regime,

mixing up conditioning, context, archetypes, experience and memory.

Although self needs cycles of destruction, it does-

i do not believe in life given by personal gods 

nor to be only fate happening to

me like a stone falling on my head. 

And to overcome these ruling images of superior God actors, 

i can forget them and create the beauty of life by seeing it same as i can bring forward its ugliness by witnessing.

As i am not a mere monadic existence nor fixed 

but in flow and change and inter-dependent with all the universe and you and us and all experience i move through: this is more easily said than done.  

It is the work of making the song not thought and composed but heard: this needs to learn to be not only one with 

but to be the instrument-

and faith that i can be.

is there a better reason to be alive? 

to be song and joy?

tell me.