We Are All Prisoners

Trapped in our thoughts that gnaw away at time; bound to a clock that never ceases to spin.

The sentences are all different, as well as the crimes. The cells are of our own design. Some are bleak and shady and some are brushed with an eternal sunshine that never fades.

Yet we are all serving a sentence of death; it is the fate of all human flesh. We cannot stop it even if we wanted to. We can travel, entertain, and spend frivolously on our many pursuits, but in the end the cell awaits and calls to us.

Are we guilty for these crimes? For the crime of choosing to live? For the crime of choosing to be wrapped in flesh, led through the maze of childhood, and given a menu of life choices? It is both our punishment and our reward. We deserve much worse, yet we also deserve much more.

Whether the cell is desolate or decorative, it always ends up to be a place within our minds. Should we choose to live out this sentence, we must confront the choices we have made, put aside the regrets, and come to peace with how we have curated each step.

I think often of those with a death sentence, earned or not, as they contemplate the rope around their neck or their arm strapped to the chair. All they have are their thoughts, and though they may be free of their prison soon, regret will always be their fleeting thought as they fade into black.

How will you serve your time? How will you spend those days as you wander toward the inevitable? The mind is the last refuge of solitude, for it speaks to us in our time of need. Call on the gods and saints if you will, and maybe they will hear you in your time of trouble. But most of all make peace with your thoughts, for that is the only way to release the chains of bondage and set your spirit free of the prison walls.