To be born of the godly immigrant is to be born of a displacement; impossible to reconcile, fated for but an eternal longing, and the infinite search for Ataraxia – a place, whereby the ancestral root and the seedling, that is one, might meet.
The confluence of East and West began with the root, buried deep beneath an ancient soil. The chaos of war upon war saw the burying of root deeper, and deeper, until she happened upon The New World. A sovereign antithesis of everything ever known to man. A terrifying nothingness. Virgin, groomed by rogue and outcast in his enlightened frenzy, and ready to be debauched by his revelation. Man shrouded the earth in darkness.
The common man set fire to Holy book, and, in his frenzy, took it upon himself to rewrite God’s law. His divine revelation collated into a Manifesto, by which The New World was established. Man ran towards his downfall, blinded by his shroud.
The seedling, sprouted in The New World, was torn from the earth. Promptly plucked from root, and replanted far from the sun, out of God’s eye. Force-fed a new axiom, indoctrinated by the status quo, and chastised for inquisition.
The blind, deaf, and dumb, could not outwit the eternal, though. Society’s sterile hand might have plucked seedling from root, but could not rid one of blood: The essence of man’s descent. To sustain, and to interminably remind
That Ataraxia is, in fact, within.
The separation of seedling from root does not necessitate the passivity of displacement. This displacement on earth is but a blessing by which one is able to endeavour on the infinite search, driven by his eternal longing, for oneself and one’s creator amongst the chaos and corrupting influence of The New World.
For Ataraxia is both the confluence of origin and manifestation, and creator and creation. The only state in which one is able to perceive oneself in light of his true sanctity.
Blind, deaf, and dumb. Leave the city. Sit in silence and try to trace human ‘development’ back to its humble beginnings. From contemporary lowlife, to medieval nobility, to the ancient sacrosanct. Leave the city.
To question the Manifesto was to blaspheme. Thus, I became apostate.
For the damnation of oneself as apostate on earth, is to see redemption in the next