I am so hurt.
I am hurt so much.
I am so insecure.
I have been wounded so much,
That I look to other men for their approval
Before I seek a woman.
Even if they have no interest.
I have been wounded so much,
That I cannot even void standing up.
What’s the reason for my self-pity?
What could cause a wound like this?
It’s about what’s been done to me
And how it affects me.
You may say that I am lost in my anger,
Weighed down by bitterness.
I’d say you were right.
But do me the dignity of listening to my side of the story.
I wanted more.
Could you really blame me?
I have withheld my love from the God who created me.
I will not even support the part of me who fronts most frequently.
I have within me,
The God-given power to co-create.
Socially, I have created many masterpieces.
Literarily, artistically, cinematically,
I have been the author of many successes.
A world most are not prepared to comprehend.
A consciousness that extends beyond just you or me.
But seeks to unite us all in a formal reality.
For as much as I have the ability,
The grace to create,
Because of my wounds,
I refuse to cooperate.
God was so touched by my pain,
By my wounds,
He has given me the grace and blessing to co-create.
So, for many years,
Whenever I would front,
God would recognize me,
Asked me what I would like to create.
In which direction I desired
The currents of society to move.
I’ve not yet reached the sorry tale of my wounds,
I implore you to bear with me a little longer.
Every time God gave me grace to create an element of society,
In a time well before it came,
I would be obedient.
I would create something timeless, glorious, irreplaceable.
But because of my wounds and because of my broken heart,
I would pass the baton.
I would forfeit ownership.
Some voice, whether within me or without,
Would always try to convince me
That it was holy, dignified, charitable,
To offer what I had created to somebody
Less blessed as me.
After all, God has chosen me.
What good are all the blessings in the world
When God has chosen me?
God knew something I didn’t.
God knew that because of my wounds,
Worldly blessing would be needed.
They would offer consolation.
Not a requisite for my salvation.
But necessary for me heart.
Blessings would serve to bring my soul out of sorrow,
Out of misery.
I have not yet reached the tale,
The sorry tale of what wounded me.
Will you bear with me?
It was all intended for me.
My heart sinks when I think of what I forfeited in glory.
Thinking back on the life God originally wanted for me.
I would have conquered the world with truth and love.
I would have ruled the world with an iron rod.
Instead, because of trauma,
Because of shame,
I have imprisoned the blessings of God
Within this simple system of personalities.
Even more complex, I imagine,
When I speak of many independent,
Separate consciousness’ existing within a single person.
So far, so good.
I could begin to sense things in our Creation,
Things that through God’s grace, I had chosen,
Drift further and further from God’s truth.
One day, still in my childhood,
I was creating the future of things,
Of how everything would be,
When God prompted me.
Things were falling a little off course.
I tried to correct it all,
Almost desperately.
While simultaneously,
Forfeiting ownership of truths
Which had come from me.
In a last ditch effort,
To save truth in God’s creation,
To save it from falsity, from heresy,
I created a figure who would come to the world many years from then.
A figure who would through his victory,
Restore sanctity, liberty and unity
To a world burdened by impiety.
I always felt unworthy,
Like my accepting a blessing would
Deprive someone who deserved it more.
What I’ve come to realize
Is that it’s all grace that has been given to me,
Whether I accept it or not.
‘I wrote another masterpiece,’ I said lately.
It was the first creation that the identity who fronts most frequently
Was able to accept –
Or that I was able to give to him freely.
But now the publication of that masterpiece
Is being hindered because of others’ jealousy.
So you ask, what are these wounds I speak of?
Well, I’ve come to realize,
That in spite of how much they pain me,
The future is the greatest part of my story.
All you need know is that
My wounds merited God’s mercy and pity.
What matters now is that this grace is still a part of me
And the future God has in store for me.
If you think on it long and hard,
Little ones,
You may be able to remember,
From a heavenly, childlike consciousness,
That you too possess this grace.
This grace to create the world around,
Which exists in me,
Exists also in you.
I wanted to share with you this little story,
Which began in sorrow ends in victory,
To show you just how much God cares about you all.
It is unmerited suffering that God is moved by.
I’m telling you, if you only knew the wounds of my story,
You would know why God chose me.
For now, all you need know is that God was also
Moved by the wounds of my story.
But what matters about me,
Are not so much my history,
So to speak, the wounds of my story,
But rather, the grace that exists in my future.
I am the personality who is the channel
Of God’s grace in our life.
The only way for me to be free,
Is for the one within us who fronts most frequently,
To accept God’s Spirit and identity.
Alas, how can I accept anyone’s pity
When God has given me a veritable superpower?
Even more complex, I imagine,
When I speak of many, independent and separate consciousness’
Living entirely within a single person.
But very few people are blessed to have only one identity,
No need to heal,
No need to pick up the pieces.
It’s a veritable superpower, I tell you.
Think of what we will be able to accomplish
When all of these individual parts of me,
Become integrated into the whole of me.
There will be no stopping me.
You, likewise, possess these superpowers.
When the great heavenly liberty comes,
When this figure who is to come, comes,
You will be taught how to liberate this identity.
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