Thursday, August 11, 2016

The Way Into

Because he had forgotten and become proud, he could not face the fact that he, only he, was responsible for finding fault with the gift of a day. To appease the shame beneath the error that was his pride, he made up stories. He infused those stories with symbols that lit the way indirectly, suggested, through the abundant imagery of the world, a way to the truth that he could not admit, possible as it was, from the periphery, the blind side, unguarded back door. Only through sun, moon, gold, doorways, and monsters did the way to what he had forgotten become clear, admissible to a mind bent on abdicating, on finding the causes of his unhappiness outside himself.   

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