I believed I was coming into being
in heroic fashion,
divinely.
Surviving losses,
travelling netherworlds,
documenting chtonic adventures with my body,
rising to heavens, birdlike —
incadescent.
Paying homage to recreations;
though, little would I know:
there was a world beyond
this Myth.
Myth I piously believed to be biography,
self realization.
Then death did not just emerge, it struck,
revealing itself to be decay,
pruning all I had believed about myself.
There was indeed a world beyond
this Myth;
with an observer awaiting my collapse
once their gaze would hit mine.
A function, highlighting the weakness of
this Myth.
Robbed of such fantasy,
floating in voids,
now nil,
I’m forced to rebuild beyond domes of volatile images,
self-perceptions and ironclad labels,
and to shadow my shadows.
Beyond the Myth
I now engineer truths
For there is no world inside myths
in which I’m meant to last.
© MFA. 2023
