My OperaLiving Life As Obert
Wednesday, February 17, 2010 8:57:08 AM
Live A Life
I have learnt to live one life, my life. Yet that life chose I live aint fair, yet it aint unfair as well. It is a peregrination through a circumbendibus vale of tears, full of sound, sound some of which signify nothing. I trudge all alone, living for my own self. Here I am, on the wickedest stretch of foul-ground, friends are few, enemies are many, cares are little. I am like nothing to this world, yet I am everything. I am one in a million, yet I carry with me piece without which the puzzle of the existence of this same world is incomplete I have learnt not to despair, even in the circumstance of the worst predicament. I am content with life, and life is its entirety, not part thereof, and I am loving it. I don’t mind living as long as i live, even in the most perilous of pestilences. I am whole, and undivided. With its twist and turn, life is still beautiful, and I am beautiful too. There are many ways to live, yet there is only one life, and one Obert. I am so anxious of this life, in this perishing world. My anxiety level has since spiked during these few days, as I wrestle with whether to choose option A or option B. I am afraid of making the wrong decision about this life in this ill world. Yet my mind has opened to comprehend that no decision is wrong, only that some turn out not to be the very best, or just don’t work. I go for this one option, to be. There aint gonna be another me, another Obert Manyanye, I wanna make the most of myself and make the best of my life. I, for one, don’t want to go many options or for alternatives when the available way can do best, for there may come a time when I will have exhausted all alternatives and left with no choice.
Fighting Wars
As I traverse on the face of the earth, I am not at peace all the way. There are wars. Wars. There are wars on the way. I have however come to terms with the reality, that no matter where you go, to live means to fight wars. There seem to be two wars known unto me, which a man may fight, and at the end of it all, he must fight. Either he faces a war of his way to his victory, his destiny, his prosperity. Or he just faces a war that aint his, such that though he may win it, he has no reward from it, that is when he takes the route to his failure. A man’s war reflects his prowess in conquest. The size of his war represents the size of his ability, capability and value of the spoils he gets out of it. When the fight gets hotter, a real man finds new strength. That is only when he faces his war on the way to his victory. There aint no victory without having to fight.
Who art me.
I sit in a rocking chair and the whole world spins from me. I rock. I am invincible. I am awesome. And the world issues forth its plaudits and all the beautiful rising and dawning of the sun occurs. Stars pop out. They wink and say unto me, “Thou art fair, Obert, and comely and hast thee a good countenance.” I embrace life, I am positive, I inspire myself. They say who am to be, yet I ask them, actually who am I not to be. I am child of this higgledy-piggledy world, yet I have a right to be here.
Vintage
If you may reap what you did not really sowed and sweated for, you may not actually enjoy the sweet thereof. It is whilst you are seated, eating the fruits of your toil and labours that you are prompted to look back in retrospection, and you just give a suspiration of relief as you realise how you came to be seated, dinning of the sweetness of your sweat.
I have learnt to live one life, my life. Yet that life chose I live aint fair, yet it aint unfair as well. It is a peregrination through a circumbendibus vale of tears, full of sound, sound some of which signify nothing. I trudge all alone, living for my own self. Here I am, on the wickedest stretch of foul-ground, friends are few, enemies are many, cares are little. I am like nothing to this world, yet I am everything. I am one in a million, yet I carry with me piece without which the puzzle of the existence of this same world is incomplete I have learnt not to despair, even in the circumstance of the worst predicament. I am content with life, and life is its entirety, not part thereof, and I am loving it. I don’t mind living as long as i live, even in the most perilous of pestilences. I am whole, and undivided. With its twist and turn, life is still beautiful, and I am beautiful too. There are many ways to live, yet there is only one life, and one Obert. I am so anxious of this life, in this perishing world. My anxiety level has since spiked during these few days, as I wrestle with whether to choose option A or option B. I am afraid of making the wrong decision about this life in this ill world. Yet my mind has opened to comprehend that no decision is wrong, only that some turn out not to be the very best, or just don’t work. I go for this one option, to be. There aint gonna be another me, another Obert Manyanye, I wanna make the most of myself and make the best of my life. I, for one, don’t want to go many options or for alternatives when the available way can do best, for there may come a time when I will have exhausted all alternatives and left with no choice.
Fighting Wars
As I traverse on the face of the earth, I am not at peace all the way. There are wars. Wars. There are wars on the way. I have however come to terms with the reality, that no matter where you go, to live means to fight wars. There seem to be two wars known unto me, which a man may fight, and at the end of it all, he must fight. Either he faces a war of his way to his victory, his destiny, his prosperity. Or he just faces a war that aint his, such that though he may win it, he has no reward from it, that is when he takes the route to his failure. A man’s war reflects his prowess in conquest. The size of his war represents the size of his ability, capability and value of the spoils he gets out of it. When the fight gets hotter, a real man finds new strength. That is only when he faces his war on the way to his victory. There aint no victory without having to fight.
Who art me.
I sit in a rocking chair and the whole world spins from me. I rock. I am invincible. I am awesome. And the world issues forth its plaudits and all the beautiful rising and dawning of the sun occurs. Stars pop out. They wink and say unto me, “Thou art fair, Obert, and comely and hast thee a good countenance.” I embrace life, I am positive, I inspire myself. They say who am to be, yet I ask them, actually who am I not to be. I am child of this higgledy-piggledy world, yet I have a right to be here.
Vintage
If you may reap what you did not really sowed and sweated for, you may not actually enjoy the sweet thereof. It is whilst you are seated, eating the fruits of your toil and labours that you are prompted to look back in retrospection, and you just give a suspiration of relief as you realise how you came to be seated, dinning of the sweetness of your sweat.
