By: Jason Chandler Cushman
Written on 6/2000
The past unknown can be bore, when no knowledge is had of that which was tore.
When the seal of history is cut, A piece of your heart can be seen to jut.
From that wound so small, so infinite. All you knew is surely bent.
Pain deeper than any well, can surely seem like the fires of hell.
But that pain, that gift, although so small, Starts the pieces of the puzzle to fall.
That puzzle, the key, to finding yourself, Is the inner soul’s manna, its being, its health.
That stranger that walks a different life, with whom you have so much strife.
Your identical twin, your brother, your soul. Whose relations with you takes its toll.
It is his place you wish to be. To be able to say, hey this is me.
But his life is not your path to take. The Gods have rolled their dice, it is their choice to make.
What trials and tribulations each shall endure, we should rejoice we don’t have more.
Kill the image you wish to be, Your fate before you never flee.
Until those gates you should climb, Be glad of the days that you may dine, On the fruits of life and wine.
Until you dance with death and die, To spit in the devil’s eye.
Ahn Soo Jin