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“Numbness pains my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, one-minute past and Lethe-wards had sunk”

These are the words of a dying man. He though the nightingale was happier in the deepest forest dim where even the brightest of the moonlight can never reach. And he writes

in some melodious plot of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease

These words meant nothing when I read it for the very first time, but later, on more thoughts I come to the realization that even without a light and even at that very deep, the bird still sings of sweet melody. A dying man wrote a poem about how sorrowful the world is compared to the deepest part of the forest where there is total darkness. With a much burden on his heart he pours down these words he said “even the hemlock, a poison missed with an opium withered in less than a minute when he drunk it and he could not feel his sense of emotion as if they have been reduced. When we hit the lowest point in life, when everything in our life means nothing, at that point all we can think about is death, legacy and probably accountability. What was going through his mind as he pours down these words nobody knows.

A poet on the quest to find knowledge I have become, Dryad I seek, Hippocrene I pursue to quench my curious mind with the waters that flow from its fountain. I have lived my life lying to others and myself without realizing it. Good morning Jeff they say and morning I will respond, every morning I hear this statement and every morning I respond with a smile on my face as a kid holding on to a promise. What is good about this morning, I asked myself, is it because of the hunger, because I have life or what is it, I asked. We woke up everyday with a new quest to fulfill, a new idea in mind, unfinished businesses to complete and a responsibility to uphold, how I wish somebody will assess me every night before I fell to my peaceful sleep, there I will know if my quest, my journey, my mission was successful. But hey, either successful or not we still go to bed like winners approaching the hour mark with a medal in mind.

 On my bed, Keats hit me very hard on my mind, how come the forest is more peaceful, what was he thinking, did he though the nightingale was happy singing that sweet melody, or was the nightingale actually happy. It kept me wondering, Them I saw me lying on the bed. How envy have thee grow, how jealous I became, seeing myself that quiet, seeing myself sleeping, I have not seen such quiet and relaxation all together in one place before. I grew more envious and more ecstatic staring at the peaceful state of mind the brain was, quickly I asked myself so this is how it is every night? A loud voice in my head answered, Yes! There is actual peace and ease of all pain.

See him!

“Peace even riches can’t afford

  Preaches preach every day in perishes

  Merchants pays every day to posses

  Government spends billions to keep

  Soldiers losses their lives trying to protect  

And it all here, right on my bed every night when I closed my eyes, something so cheap, so affordable yet have become a nightmare for the rich, a fantasy for writers, A dream for the dreamer and a terror for the world. How come we spent so much for something we already have, this cant be the peace we are looking for, I battled within myself maybe I’m mistaking, perhaps the word I was looking for was quiet and not peace. What if Keats was wrong, maybe it is quiet in the deepest numberless forest but no peace. What is peace? What is quiet? Peace is more than just the absence of war or shootings or dead bodies lying in streets, it is a state when there is no disturbance and no noise, no weariness. The leaves among the forest Know no such. Here men sit and hear each other groan, suffer, hungers for food, there is no such when sleeping at night, the scar deep in the heart is forgotten, the thoughts of failing are lost, the shame disappears even the excitement is gone.

It was so quiet in here, I could hear only the sound far away, not just one sound but a collection of different sweet sounds missed together to produced a sweet melody. It was very dark in here, almost as if day never exist. The wisdom of a man is useless and the strength, worthless. Souring through I saw a number of ideas relaxing, I saw the pains very calm, the scar, unwind, the beauty alleviated and the mind, eased. It was like a burden had been lifted, how I wished I could enjoy this for the rest of my life, how I wish to hold on to this forever, the peace, the silence, how I wish they were all part of my every day life. I have hold unto these very things in my mind for a long a time and now I had them I wasn’t going to let go. It was all for but a short time, fading away. On the return journey I saw all the pains, the beauty, the hustle, the scar, the ideas all waking up, resuming their usual duties, they all looked terrify as with them, they are feared by the us, they haunt us, it’s not by choice they all yield at me. I have found the peace people searches for all their life just by closing my eyes on my bed.

Good morning Jeff they say, Morning I respond. So is this also peace.

Thank you for reading this piece, I will come your way with a lot more.