All I ever wanted was to go sailing,
and, honestly, to get bored with life.
Instead, I have spent the last seven years
endlessly and tediously discovering
my birthright, and all it provides:
abuse. Projection. Hatred. And spite.
I wanted, and want, to be something else.
I at last
accept my destiny, and all of its oncoming trials and battles and fights.
But I never said I had to like it.
And I also never said.
I would fight it.
Or hide it.
You wanted to generate yet another Dragon
under your control:
surprise, surprise, assholes,
he’s right here,
operating, as it idiomatically (but not very accurately) were
right under your nose. I can smell your fear
as I come closer
to understanding why it was me. Why I am here.
Why I can effectively (but not really)
read people’s minds, and
figure out every last secret of the universe.
Why everything I have done
has never made anything worse
but only better.
And why,
all I it seems I have to ultimately do to keep lighting the way
is to really fucking say, and live the adage that kept me from dying in the first place:
nadi falah nadi.
Never say never.