all the tearing, hacking, banging. all the unbearable noise of the drills stripping the comfort zone to the least comfortable place to live in, let alone look at. it’s probably the most comfortable place worthy of a vagabond.
no, i’m not a vagabond. i refuse to live as one.
the overwhelming dust of the mess floats in still air. the silence from the dismantling soothes. no matter how much dirt is cleaned, the particles continue to fall, to fall and fall. no matter how silent it seems, the roar still rings through the ears as echoes.
no, i’m not a vagabond. i refuse to live with this.
wait, what am i refusing? – to live with the situation and to deal with it? to acknowledge i am living like the vagabond?
the tearing down of pride. the tearing down of ego. it still floats, it still rings, most of all, it still hurts. but this is the time to humble and notice that i can never do anything alone with my strength.
yes, behaved like a vagabond going after the temptations of this world – excel, succeed and repeat. i belong nowhere going after these temporal. no, now i refuse to live as one. to humble and take up the cross, disciplined to recognise what’s beyond this chaos – is a true amazing loving-kind One above all.