Thirty

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30 years.

Yet, not feeling any different now than before. I am still I. Nothing has changed, and everything has changed.

The world is so different in so many ways. My body has long ago changed by the seasons, cells has fallen to the ground, joined the earth to become part of new bodies. It is a cycle on it’s own, yet filled with toxins, just like everything seem to be nowadays.
It is a given, that it will wither away and die, it is a given that fall will become winter and that the winter will be long.
It is cold in the far north.

But, there is also something beyond all this.
Something that is not a molecule in a cell, a chemical formula that can be affected by toxins.
There is a secret that is vaguely whispering it’s truths to those who are standing still enough to be able to listen.
Sometimes the whisper is so weak that you can hardly hear it.
Sometimes it is so silent that it’s heavy, lingering voice sweeps across the silent air of the night, like it was carried by the brave, untiring heroes, each with a loyalty and courage like ten samurais.

“I am here now”, it whispers silently into your ear.

It is time to let it in.

It is time, right now.
Now, when it has come and seeped in through the cracks of the window and like the smell of fresh, homemade blueberry pie slowly fill the house from the floor to the ceiling. It’s whisper is gaining momentum, it gets bold and more pronounced as the silence in the house grows. It is shimmering, you slow down.
“Is it time now?”, you hear your voice say.

Yes, it is time now.

It is time to give up your infantile dreams, your immature longing for the treasures of this world, your eternal striving for this unattainable happiness. It is time to set both of your feet on the ground, straighten your back. To slowly close your eyes, let your gaze come to rest and then to look up with shimmering eyes.. It is time to see with love in your heart, feel the smell of the beautiful existence of those around you, to give joy to everyone you meet with the compassion of your hands, the hands of a body that long enough has been the master in someone elses house.

It is time for this weak whispering to loudly be heard in the empty alleys, a distant light you recognize far far away, finding it’s way home out there in the dark winter night.

The master has come home to finally be the ruler in it’s own home. He speaks with a powerful voice. All is well. Finally we can sleep through the night, feeling safe. Now, nothing can threaten our existence.

We no longer have to search.

The waiting is over.

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