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Ikechi Okwuadigbo

Ego/Self

I wish I knew of the sunken place.


He’s only recently quelled anger. Though he knew it before tolerance and forgiveness. He was given to violence which was spurred by his Self. I cannot fault him then. Though, I imagine I cannot fault him for anything.


“Knowledge brings complexity.”


I know the mantra to be jargon, but he does not. And so he lives to the expected end. A deep depression, recovery or suicide, how might one choose both? I imagine he knows of me, but cannot know me.


“There is you, there is I, consider not the ambiguous. I inform your living. It is far from criminal to lie with me.”


I was born by the river and so was he, so he knows not to obey jargon. There are caveats, though, for such servitude. Again, I cannot fault him.


“You are but a slave to my causal chain, ‘tis a privilege; there is naught to be ashamed of in virtue. Lo! The caves call, the mountains shriek! Can you separate meaning from itself?”


He heeds what can be heard. I cannot. I rely on those things intangible as I, so maybe I will meet him on the mountain. His quest is set and I must watch.


He speaks thus, “I do as I might will to. I will as my Self might bid me passage. There is another, though, one I cannot discern. It may have lost its speech? No matter. As needed, I will lose my mind, and though the bristles of my hubris will scratch me so, I will scale the necessary heights.”


“Yes, yes! Look into me! I am the death-hole over which your soul extends!”


“Succumb.”


I look on. Here, now, I watch from the sunken place.



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