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City Of Light






I was born again in the city of light.  A long hidden piece of my soul, galvanized by the air of that enlightened paradise burst from within, and opened my eyes to the silhouettes on the wall before me.  It was there, in that city, I could no longer hide from truth. 


Instead of converting so-called barbarians her radiance cut into every crag and crevice of my soul.  She illuminated my heart and my mind.  The ones that had sent me were outraged at the epiphany.  They said that I had been seduced by lies and half truths, that I lost my life to ideas that belonged to the moon.  They called me a werewolf and told me that I could never return to their hamlet.  I tried in vain to explain myself, to draw their attention to the wider intellect bubbling from within me like a newly discovered mountain spring.   But I spoke to shadows, and beamed right through.  


I cursed Plato and his ancient wisdom.  I cursed the sun and I cursed the moon too.  I had aspirations to curse the reflection in the mirror also.  I wanted to bury the facade that I saw peering back at me.  But I knew that she was there, almost lurking, but more so calling.  “Come back from the dark night, return to the city that brought you to life, where you were born again.”  So I went and the moment I re-arrived she embraced me and I was home. 


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