Is it human to belong?
Dialogues are reflections of self, and such dialogues withstand the brute force of time and space. The spatial degree of separation is further marred by early onset of recurring familial tragedies.
My irascible nature unhinges inside the four, white-washed walls of a place I call home. With an echoing steed of past, resonating nothing but constant disapproval, I have come to terms with dismembering myself from the general anatomy of belonging. The sense of a surreal relation whereupon one is bound to forfeit personal longings and a continuance of sacrificial demands are impinged, I fail. Hence, I falter:
The nature of events unfold as I become wary of my irremediable surroundings. A distant memory, however docile it may be, can influence a tirade of nostalgic occurrences. This is the first degree of ‘belonging’.
At the apex of isolated sentiments, seeking shade under unbridled faith and constrained discomfiture lies a second and much harsher degree of ‘belonging’.
Undergoing aforementioned degrees with hopeless, silent perseverance marks a third degree of ‘belonging’.
Patience as a virtue is employed, but as a trait is rare. Here it relates to an eventual ‘belonging’ that dawns in the finality of earth years.
My early morning musings shall resolve zilch, but a self-imposing satisfaction will feed leverage to my much strained conscious. Again I ask but with a contrast.
Is it human enough to belong?