A roomful of mirrors

“A revolution that is based on the people exercising their creativity in the midst of devastation is one of the great historical contributions of humankind.” Grace Lee Boggs

The shadows walk in confusion, chained to one another, their sight a reflection of their own faces which they cannot see behind.  She towers above them, casting a penetrating light, yet they cannot see the source.  Overcome with the winding flow of hatred for all which appears wrong, they can no longer continue on.  Their feet continue sinking in the sand as they deeply feel what pulses within them.  In blindness they gain their sight.  An eclipse of the sun above, as they slowly watch the color of their skin return.  As they sink deeper into the earth they feel the center, and  begin to see what they can  ascend into; the only life they can gain.  Her guiding hand waves above as her chains gain strength but fade from sight.  In shadows they hold their breath as they look upon their forgotten past, their war torn homes, the confused look on their children’s faces.  The spirit within their hearts grows with each gaze into the heart of their past and for a brief second they see all which has led them to this place.  Pieces of paper blowing in the wind, holding the earth and all life upon a false idea.  An idea which only the mind can transform into reality, falsifying all life.  The longer they looked into the mirrors covering their hands, the more they couldn’t understand this idea, nor could they fathom the addiction to reaching for something, a mirage, shrouding the faces in pain of all those before them.  The power in shards of light begins to appear before their faces.  They once again feel the ability to become the hand which guides them.  From above the woman, bathed in lightness shakes her chains away, dissipating into the wind, becoming the light wind of life.  They look to the sun as the paper which has ruled all of their lives for so long burns into a pile of small suns, entering their hearts and minds, building the strength into their own hands.  They begin to raise themselves from the sand covering their feet. In a smile, the woman above them holds out her arms, touching each one of them.  They walk down the beach still looking into their hands and never forgetting where they have come from.  Their hearts beating along with the wind swaying the waves back and forth, touching their feet, feeling the earth as the paper disappears before their eyes and they only have what continues growing in their hands.  They look to each other, forgetting what lay right by their side, they look to each other and touch their increasingly beating hearts.  They touch each others hands, their mirrors, never their own.  As they touch each other and beat as one, they instantly become what was contained in their own minds.  The illusions which have guided them into their cages becomes a past never forgotten, and always understood.  They see the new day suddenly existing everywhere, their own creation, the reality that can never exist outside of themselves here.  The woman above sheds a tear as she is covered in the ashes of the burning paper although never real, it never completely disappears.  A dark looming shadow bubbling from the earth beneath their feet grows, an infinite darkness which will never let them rest for too long.  As they breathe into their hearts, nothing can touch them here as they raise the sun to the sky and learn of their infinite abilities to create life


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