Cierrah Parson

Sala's Internal Monologue

Is this what life has come to? This dreary dull existence? This body is not my body, just a vessel, a conduit for my eternal soul. When this one grows old and withers away, my soul will be born again into a new one. Come into a new being. I watch myself crossed legged in front of the alter, calling upon the ancient powers and I am aware that my life is not my own. It does not belong to me; I am merely a soul manifesting new realities that are never quite right. I hover above myself, watching, studying. The sharp cut of jaw, the highness of cheekbones, the fullness of lips, full eyebrows and thick eyelashes, and hair that lays just right... All the things this human world covets so dearly, but it is of no importance to me, I do not want it. This vessel us all of these things, yes, and it garners me attention unsolicited, but it is not mine. If only they all understood the fleetingness of this life, that the soul defies time, takes up space, cannot be wholly confined to the barriers of a container. Sometimes I overflow, my essence spilling over, my soul energy too much for... this. I wonder if they can see it; I feel it in the deepest reaches of my being. There is no end; just the never ending process of contents spilling over into the vast pit of everything until the time comes to tether to another earthly vessel.