The Costume Placed Aside

We hear: do this, don’t do that.
Be that, don’t be that.

Born a mistake, unworthy at birth.
Who we are is unlovable. Untouchable.
Change.

So we rot from the inside, taking it out on the outside.
Telling others to do the same.
Follow the rules.

Never aware of our own truth, buried too deep to remember.
A slave to the system, a manufactured outcome.

Dull. Distant. Angry. Spiteful.
Jealous. Competitive. Hateful. In Hell.

To there we go with our head slumped down.
Thinking we are mistakes.
We just can’t seem to fit in.

Yet sometimes that still, small voice finds a crack in the mirage.
Screaming let me out!
I’m dying inside!

Maybe we listen, allowing it to state its case.
“You are me and I am you.
Be at peace, you are perfect as a jewel.”

We laugh and say that can’t be true.
Everyone else is drinking the juice.

I can’t be worthy. I can’t be that great.
I’m just like everyone else. In an ordinary state.

But eventually the pain gets too hard to bear.
The cave gets too damp and dark,
An unholy glare.

Do we dare step outside and take the leap?
Is it really worth our whole life, or should we continue to sleep?

One glimpse out and the sun shines.
One step forward and the trees wave.
We start to wonder why things weren’t always this way.

Free to create who we are, no longer beholden to society.
Reveling in the magic with each breath of sobriety.

And in this moment we realize.
The chains of our past.
Were not theirs but ours.
Illusions of the mind.
We were always free.
I was always me.
Those voices of society my own, and mine theirs.
A unified percussion of snares.
Placed to test the strength of my soul.
For gratitude to set forth like never before.

We are born again.
Remembering who we are.
Perspectives shift, opportunities no longer resist.
We wonder why we ever thought heaven didn’t exist.

We long to tell others what’s on the other side.
“It doesn’t have to be this way!” we say.

A crack in the shell, a glimpse of delight.
It’s only a matter of moments before your true self shines bright.

Silly and quirky. Brave and humble.
A gift to the world. An ignition of potential.

No longer consumed with comparisons.
The costume placed aside.
A uniqueness that will now dare be spoken.
A love from within that cannot be broken.

Yourself a reclamation.
Space clear in the mind.
Free to be.
A shrine of creation.

By Ashley Heacock

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Photo by Aditya Saxena