On Planes of Existence

Here...I am...somewhere south of heaven.

Somewhere...I am.

Here...I am...dancing on the ripples of something putrid.

Yet, it smells like home.



No matter where I am...I am, and will always be.

I have always wondered where I am. The answer would be, "you are where you are," or, "duh...on Earth." Maybe it's not that easy to answer. Maybe we lock ourselves down by our own reluctance to question where we are. I know this must be true because we seldom ask ourselves who we are.

Are we afraid of knowing? Is this why we package ourselves in tiny containers, restricting our movement only to safe havens, forcing ourselves to relive the same day every day with only subtle changes? At the same time, drive the same route, eat the same predetermined meals, watch the same shows, or shower. Has the box become so small? Is the world no longer that quest, but something to live through video screens and old history shows?

Are we afraid of knowing? Is this why we provide the fire during the witch hunts against those people, societies, or items suddenly deemed unholy by religious standards, or sanctity forbid, our own due to difference?

Are we afraid of looking at misdeeds, misfortunes, inner pain and suffering, or worst yet, those skeletons hung by the neck with decayed ropes swaying next to the newly ironed shirt for tomorrow?

The worst curse is to know...and this I do know. But then again, is it really a treat to claim ignorance, or is it merely one more excuse placed on top of all the others we have compiled to explain why we didn't or why we won't.

Hmmm...time to meditate I suppose.