“They say you fight the greatest jihad in your heart and your mind…so I dream the impossible all the time…America’s future is mine…if our culture’s a crime, them numbers tatted on your arm aren’t too far behind. They can only conquer you after they murder your mind. So rise up mother fucker like the sign o the times, I feel my body weakening, but my spirit is fine, ready to go to war with devils at the drop of a dime and fight with my rebel army til the stars are aligned…live for revolution instead of always dying for it.” Immortal Technique
The smoke from all my dreams ascends to the sky, sprinkling star dust across the universe. In each particle a million life times burn away and transform and float away in light and darkness. And as I burn their eyes widen, seeing the reflection of all I am. Everything is here, in the mirror holding their image before them as they turn away and close their eyes. As my heart beat grows louder, I feel the little girls hands covered in blood, my father’s cries of love which I could never really hear, the eyes still clicking above me, they can never exist outside of these ropes which bind my hands. I float above them, smoldering ash quietly falling into their hair and blurring their vision and still their eyes widen as they anticipate my cries of pain. Those cries never come as the fire encapsules their ignorance, their eyes attempt to follow it, but they turn away as it runs directly into their heart. I burn so they can see and maybe they can continue seeing. But maybe it doesn’t even matter as we are all caught in this cycle and we all think we know the way out. And as they continue looking out at me burning upon the cross of their silence, they can no longer see the form of what I was, but only the form of themselves, in continuous revolution from the bottom of their hearts, they watch the ideas they had of themselves burning away into the night…reaching, and letting go. They no longer look to the fires of the moon as they slowly walk through the fires burning inside themselves. The hum they previously unleashed from themselves becomes completely silent as they learn to open their arms and they feel the pain my form releases and they can no longer hide, they can no longer see it separate from themselves. Maybe I am just another sacrifice for their ignorance, or maybe they can see now, maybe they can feel each other now and feel the pain that the darkness of their hearts has unleashed upon the world. Maybe they can see the chaos swirling inside of them, the chaos that constantly creates a new heart superimposed upon the world which has carried them this far, the world that breathes their life, the earth which is their soul. Maybe they can look through the eyes of the devil and see those eyes are no different from their own. As they learn how to exist within them, maybe they can understand. Through the eyes of the devil they watch, burning to be free from the confines of separation.