By Mathiba Len Molefe
Journey of Self
Discovery
Everything I see seems to hold some untold significance in
my life, be it pivotal or negligible I know not, but as I try piece together
the pieces of the broken image that is said to so accurately illustrate my life,
it dawns on me that those fragments that I donned unnecessary to recollect, in
their absence, leave a gaping hole that so often spells misfortune. If only I
had chosen to see their importance, then hindsight would not be such a painful
experience. Often these seemingly unnecessary parts of what we perceive go
unnoticed or are simply put aside and seldom do we attempt to see things at
more than just face value. Seldom do we opt to venture into the murky waters of
the unknown, instead we postulate and speculate as to what could be and don’t
strive to discover what is. We base our perceptions on what was or was thought
to be it but don’t take into consideration the possibility that what our
predecessors tell us is fact may only be opinion or their own unclear or
misguided perception. One cannot sum up the impact that certain events have on
certain people if they themselves have not tread that same winding road but
have knowledge only of the beginning and the end and no knowledge of what lies
between these two points. Take for granted the fact that just going to it can
never amount to going through it. One must live his lessons to the fullest
instead of trying to leave them behind as you move on only to circle back time
and time again to where that lesson beckons.
Ramblings of the
Self-Conscious
I have views, views that I so seldom express, views that I
supress unless I’m given reason to or put under duress, views that are viewed
as abrasive, invasive and often not very persuasive, I have no reason to fear
letting them hear what I see, how I see and I see why. Yet I do. Branded by the
hot iron of society as a misfit, unfit to rub shoulders with the social elite.
I fear that in my quest to fit in I lose myself, engulfed by the garb and
mannerism that feel so alien to me, yet my façade projects an image of comfort
to protect me from those prying and scrutinising eyes that look to uncover the
lies that hide my true guise, squeezed into the uncomfortable dimensions that
are the norms that dictate swag from whack, fact from smack spoken by those in
the public eye who claim to lead lives that are way beyond their means.
Depicted as unreal is the real, spoken as truth is the fabrication of truth.
The twisting of words builds tension within the speaker’s own tongue as it intertwines
with the lashings that hold your true essence down. Your own mind leads you in
a direction that your soul wishes not to follow. Torn between the two of you,
the two versions of you squabbling and bickering over matters of little
importance and impotence. Truly pivotal decisions cast aside for a time where
it will be too late, when fate becomes irate and cast you aside in the same
manner. I wonder while I wander through squalor and remains of squandered
opportunities. I follow the beaten path knowing not whether beat by feet of
slaves headed to their graves or by the fortified souls of boots worn by
conquerors in haste to lay waste to any they come across. Mindless ramblings….?
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