Everyman is caught up in the chains of self-realization and validation. We are accountable to no one but ourselves, to the rationality of our actions and to the consequences that follow. We plague our thoughts with reflection and are often held up in pity as the bounds of reason dawns on our consciousness. We are awaken to the realization that we cannot escape ourselves, we realize we are prisoners, prisoners of will held up in the prison of our minds.
The mind, indispensable in its right engulfs the consciousness of our very beings. We are caught in its thread as we swim in thought and seek direction in act. Men bound to act and the mind to dictate. We are mindless extension of will, moving as willed. But men we are, pride our stance, freewill our power, we are bound to choose, bound to make. We paint the unravelling imagery of will as we spur thought to action but still we are prisoners.
Our minds, the only prison able to hold man and humble reason; the only cage without bars or the physical restrictions of restraint and held there is the prisoner of will. We are haunted not by will but by creation, the expression of eternal will poured upon men. We are bound to rumblings, to the continuous chatter of thoughts seeking meaning. We are held to will, held to ponder, held to choose and held to focus.
I am your thoughts! I am the chattering in the wind, take heed and listen to my rumblings, find in my confusion meaning, and establish reason in the cloud. Lay the path to meaning and let my doubt and fears pour through. Let your soul empty its depth in thought and let it follow through and through and find calm and solace in the comfort of your mind. Cease to be the prisoner of will and emerge the victor wielding reason in one hand and meaning in the other.
Calm! Blowing like the cool wind moving swiftly calming the soul. There I found solace; there I found meaning, a little more and am free. Man free to do, free to move, free to decide. A prisoner no longer, the chatter slowly disappears into the calm and I am left with the emptiness, the stillness of the soul, the subsiding peace and smile of the victor.
I am no warden but king of the prison, the prison of the mind.
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