So I lock off, I shut out and I let go. I keep my eyes open and I keep walking.
This chosen path saturated with distractions masking trueness- imitating trueness. My only guides are my signs, formed of previous occurrences on this road. Keeping my eyes open to decipher this code,
I lock off, I shut out and I let go. I keep on walking.
The beings appear, carrying their tumultuous message of doubts and vilification. He bellows infinite threats to my selfness. She curses me for partaking in the fruits of the tree I had before encountered on this road.
The twinge of guilt pricks me. For in the partaking of these fruits I had placed the promise of sweetness before the surety of replenishment. These trees promised sweetness and new discovery of the same. I knew these fruits were not meant for me, not yet. But against the guidance of my own voice, I partook.
When the knowledge of my initial wisdom found me again, I denied myself further indulgence in these fruits. The tree itself lashed me for denying it the fulfilment of its promise. But in the surety of rightness, I took the pain, and I kept on walking.
Now these beings seek to exploit the harshness of these lessons resting on my conscience. Cursing my footprints in the suposed elevation of themselves. I hear them, but there are no virtuous corrective intentions in these rantings. So I lock off, I shut out and I let go.
When I come upon a new tree of the sweet smelling fruits, I admired it for all its beauty and I keep on walking.
The stones come, hurled by path side dwellers, who provide continuous commentary along this path. Some strengthened by the rantings of the curseful beings. Such utterances are contagious to ears attached to loose tongues and souls not yet matured. Some detest the style of my walk, and seek to distort its rhythm, holding their power in their very eyes. Eyes seeking comfort in the inadequacies they perceive, calling their perception reality.
I dance in avoidance of these stones, dodging the gaze of those eyes, for my walk is insufficient in their attack. Yet my walk is my rhythm. To distort the rhythm is to distort the journey itself. My signs lead me within myself, and I rediscover the shield, covering myself in its completeness. And with the vow to always remember it, again, I lock off, I shut out and I let go. I keep my eyes open and I keep on walking.
I walked till I came upon her. She offered me the fruit from the tree she had cultivated from the goodness of her own soul. I told her I could not partake, I told her why. Asking no questions, uttering no words of persuasion, she smiled in her understanding. And in the telling of my story, I realised that I had not stopped walking, but that she was also walking along this path. She carried her fruits with her.
The Brotha came, walking along a path that now met ours. He expressed no sureness in destination, but conviction in the rightness of his path. Assuredness in revelation. In the fullness of overstand in his words. I opened my arms, I synchronised my Rhythm and I kept on walking!….. I keep on Walking!