The anti-Epiphany
I suppose that with those rare moments of truth and insight–or what we perceive to be as such–also come those with polar qualities. They lead in different directions, ultimately, but their primary, most convincing, and most powerful asset is the ability to inebriate the mind in ways that permit one to conveniently forget and willfully neglect past attitudes or thoughts and to anxiously jump forth into whatever may come. The product is unpredictable: it could be eternally fruitful, or maybe only for a time, or perhaps a catastrophe in and of itself.
But, following that initial transitional grace period of comfort and security–or perhaps the illusion of such–comes another altogether unexpected and unwelcome realization or sensation that, whilst we once thought ourselves to be following the road or at the very least to have known of its existence and direction, will convince us otherwise. That is the moment where the light we are graced–or punished–with reveals to us that the road was never there. Or, perhaps, it blinds us to it.
In either case–whether the road has actually disappeared or we ourselves have become blind–the result is the same: a sense of loss regarding what was once had, a simple human being left in utter confusion, a wreck of flesh, bones, and heart left in a clutter of existential questions.
Meanwhile the disarray takes its toll. That mess of a human must be quite the eyesore–and fret not. He sees himself in the mirror.
Yes–it is true. My heart has again left the folds of Islam, and with that lost layer of warmth has been re-exposed to a cold to which it had once grown accustomed. Though the flirtation lasted for but a brief period of six odd months, the unholy union took a cataclysmic toll on my life with the unexpected birth of a set of new eyes, a new social circle, and a previously unknown and ultimately stifling, blinding, and incapacitating inclination to mental, emotional, and political submission.
