One of the biggest challenges in life is owning up to your actions. But one bigger than that, is facing the consequences.
Over the past many years, I have made mistakes, my conscience singed many a times. But owning up is often an act of recklessness: turned to with ease. The rush of warmth that flows from the tip of ones fingers to the head when wielding the sword of wanton honesty. An act of defiance in isolation of the ledger of life. The moment of freedom when shouting on the top of one’s lungs, is a momentary murder of the conscience, a space where acts merge with existence and become one. I am not Me. I am what I did. I am the Infidel, the Murderer, the Beast.
Soon the clutches of fate latch on. But one finds the fabric of life fraught with lies of little meaning but much consequence. A whirlpool of causal mess. In the past there were friends to merge forces with. Who would fight for honor and defend to death. But, distances emerge where distances are. So often its hard to find a shoulder for rest, an ear for un-judged listening. Even an honest rant: admission of guilt and the yoke of fault would not mend the well treaded even paved path of the unwise.
Try not to find yourself in a spot, undeserved, where it is not your fault, but to defend yourself leads to debts you would dare not bare.


