The known is limited:
limited to the past,
to the described
and the describable.
Trusting the known passes for common sense.
” Better the devil that you know…” = sage advice.
Apparently, even a devil warrants trust,
as long as it looks and sounds familiar.
The familiar feels comfortable.
Humans are all about comfort.
Trouble comes when comfort ends.
Comfort always ends.
Scrambling for a new comfort, we will do almost anything.
We might even go back to trusting a devil.
But we affirm: ” This time will be different.”
It never is.
The known doesn’t last.
The known doesn’t satisfy.
The known doesn’t feel real, because it has no substance of its own.
Still we persist, hemmed in on every side by fear – fear of the unfamiliar.
The cage of memory,
woven in time with the thread of thought,
makes a comforting prison,
our most prized possession.
We’re even “house-proud” of our jail cell.
One night, a faint tapping catches the attention.
Decoded, it says; “... just… step… out… of… the… cell. ”
The tapping continues….
” …freedom can be had for just this …
…look past the cage…
…push past the fear…
…take a step out…
…into the unknown… “
What would it take for you to leave ?
Do you hear it ?
The tapping continues…
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Thanks for the line drawing to this site: http://www.clker.com/clipart-vacant-prison-cell.html