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Sequel Staff

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butterfly

We must remember the past but not let it define us. Maybe he meant that since life can only be understood backwards, anyone living in the present can’t understand life, maybe we’re doomed to never understand life in its essence, it’s truth. To really undersand, we have to be fearless yet compassionate. To walk the path in between, not the path of least resistance, the yin to the yang.

Like feeling the scales of a butterfly, you have ruined the past. They can no longer fly as they once have, no longer have meaning. They will wither and grow old. You have shattered the sacredness of these memories. No longer do they have any sting, no feeling. As the knife dulls so has your perception, so have your conversations with your mind. Straining to know, straining to understand who you talked to all those years. This is delicate, like a snowflake, once it’s touched it melts and is never seen again. Originality and creativity are flung away in some desperate attempt to clear yourself.

But you mustn’t stop yourself, you can be your own worst enemy. Halting your progress by thinking of what may be. Dwell on the past to bring inspiration for today. Like a fountain of ink you must write this all down, in your head. Calligraph every word beautifully, criss crossing the letters. It may not make sense now but when you look behind you you’ll realize what was meant to be. How this was all supposed to take place.

Life itself is a forward moving object, so much to do, to see, feel. But, at the same time, can be distancing. Rough and coarse like the shell of a great Mollusk, entrancing still though. A burning desire to create, share and live. Live life to the fullest, don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do something. You were borne great and live to this day still, great. Truly one of a kind. Important, like the cycle of nature one can’t live without you.

Though nature be kind, deadly talons lurk beneath the skin of feathers. A predator in the sky. Fear itself may stalk you, but you cannot remain in it’s grip. You must break free, free from pain, free from death. Live.

Literary Staff 18′ || Henry Rittler

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