περιπέτεια (peripetia)

Much of my pain and disappointment has stemmed from my expectation. I expected to receive much from the world on the account of who I am—whatever that may be.

I saw people with wealth, and I thought I deserved that same wealth; when I saw that the path to wealth crossed decades and generations, I came to resent wealth and the wealthy for many of the wealthy did not need to cross the violent and vast river of trial-and-time. 

I grew resentful, fearful, and hesitant as time passed—feeling as if I was trapped in a devious mechanism whose purpose was to drain my life and soul to sustain the livelihoods of those that stood on the shoulders of generations.

I saw that I was a man living in the shadows of vampiric titans and kniving gods.

I attempted to brush away this image as being the result of bruised and temporarily wounded ego, but my heart told me that this was the truth: the world is a tragic place for a tiny man who dares to look up with open eyes. 

Regardless, I sense the need-and-calling to step forward in whole-being—entering into the world, expecting neither blessing nor curses, neither pain nor pleasure. Going forth, not as a lamb-to-cross, nor compassionate-mindful-monk, rather, I would go swiftly, attentively, with measured caution, and calculated force. 

Ride onward, Hermes,
Between Scylla and Charybdis.
Forward Mercury, 
Beyond good and evil,

For gods and for man.