Methuselah

Today, I felt disconnected, forced into the shadows of sunlight behind the wandering leaves. It does not seem enough to belong to this world but, instead, disrupt it by lying half-naked on the shoreline. Who is it that has forgotten me? Have I not screamed loud enough? The wolves are all hooded and succumb to the caverns of our suffering. Such, these wolves struggle in silence and display their pain as an excuse to forget disobedience. It is I, a wolf in this Midwestern city, suffering. Yet, losing my suffering. Has it been so long? My supposed pain appears now superficial and with no valor or human worth. Today, I sought the sea to reconnect. Here, in the outstretches of discovery, I hear the swirling whispers gently recite a prophecy -

The world has begun to destroy humanity. They have forgotten what it means to connect. They are consumed by vanity. Possessions are fleeting. Your suffering holds the pure truth. Yet, others have turned struggle into a vanity. They have sensationalized pain. They have lain it on a shimmering steel hospital bed and asked for its euthanizing. They have tried to escape, but you must embrace it. Suffering must no longer be swallowed, forgotten, and placed into martyrdom. One does not rise from suffering. One must accept it, embrace it, and change it into glory, hope, and beauty. Pain is no longer a reason to escape our world. It is the vehicle to forever alter our connection. Our suffering connects all humanity with each other and with nature.

... As the telephone rings, I answer and hear an unsteady voice proclaim that we are all descended from Methuselah. Methuselah, indeed.

- Neall James