Blemish Upon The Breeze

A Story Exploring Self In Confrontation

My friend once asked me, “who are you, really?” to which I replied, “I don’t know” but I wanted to find out.

There was an unfairness put upon the hearts of those around us, there was an aperture in truth, a blemish upon the breeze, a straining reverberance. This, another amongst many, a protrusion they themselves have wrought.

There was a flagrant acceptance at picking and choosing only those axioms which benefit in a huff of rage, at the surface boiling, of chaotic intrusions.

Amongst the chaos, there beget more. It became half-truth here and half-truth there but which part of two do you truthfully dare to conjoin yourself with? This, when choosing a third begets you a truthful monster of both side's despair.

“For which side do you care?” asked my friend, “I am to choose a side? Amongst neighbors and friends? For what side is there that caters to mend?” I replied in a slowed thought.

“To pick at half-truths is to pick at foul destinations. To one side or the other, there is, in me, no consternation. When truly there can be more than such division, in duality there can be unity, partial truths beget forgery.”

My friend in a puff, appalled at my words, comes at me sorely, and in disbelief, “I thought you, of all people, would know better and choose the side of my truths endeavors. How you, in your dangered engagement, choose to choose thirdly upon the act of duel morality!”

As he walked away, the walls of the city grew around me.

Which walls will you now climb that you have abandoned both, which way is the way up when both choose to stay put in their walls buttressed stones. Rigid and unyielding, made to take a beating, of opposing thought, there is little in their cracks proceeding.

“You asked me who I am before looking at yourself, to what end do you propose these walls to keep to their promised ends?” as I find the gates of both these walls, I demand they both open as I pronounce “there is one for all, I choose both or neither, of you all what gall! Once neighbors, now enemies, it baffles this speedy fencing of our communities.”

I continue, “To play such games will bring us deadwood, a rotting corpse, we’ve before seen the consequences of this course. Backward, not forward is what it will endorse. Find a way together for division begets pain, both have a vision, together that vision can give us rain.”

I enter both gates, hated and verbally flayed, told that there are only their thoughtful ways, dressed as better than oppositions say. To question their motives is to antagonize their imperative and self-evident truths.

One begets its own ways as clear as can be, hypocrisy as it preaches but does not meet in action its presentations. The other does oppositely as it acts in a way which can be seen to order, but ignores in thought those truths which are drenched in deeper disorder. There is of both side’s agreement and opposition, to pick one a disservice upon mankind’s diction.

“Who am I, really?” I ask my old friend, “I don’t really know, but in self-doubt, I navigate those shores. I don’t know who I am, but in conversation and with confrontation, with that which I continue truthfully towards, but in flexibility contort. In faith, there shall I be but in conversation, I will then Be.”

“There, if we may speak to one another, may we know who we are, may we truly seek.”

Of all my shattered neighbors, at least I was of my own nature, uncorrupted by the absolutes of their promised treasures, both false of measures. True love is found in engaging in truth and not betraying self in the halves of their fruits. You wouldn’t know unless you’ve betrayed that part of yourself, you’ve given to its distress, can you regress?

So I wonder, who are you, really? Are you so sure? For if you think yourself better, you’ve yet to ponder that we all are in this together.

Thanks for reading! Ilija Begic

If you enjoyed this, consider reading this