Peter Pan is no longer

You. You were sleeping, hidden by the flowers. But I was the one who had found you. You stood out quite clearly. Others said you were the color of flowers, therefore no one could find you if you decided to hide amongst them. They clucked their tongue, talking of this, but their love for you behind those words were quite clear. They thought you were happy, lovable. And I didn’t understand because to me, you stood out between the flowers.

Tomorrow. William Shakespeare once said in one of his greatest plays ‘Macbeth’ that it creeps at a petty place, signifying nothing. Never was he more wrong. Never was Macbeth more wrong. Tomorrow never creeps. Nor is its pace petty. It swooshes down and strikes one like a lightning bolt. And it always leaves a trace in the soul. It leaves its burn, the carcasses of dead emotions stinking like hell. This must signify something. This foul and awful stench couldn’t just mean nothing.

Flight. Human beings could not fly by themselves. So they made their own wings. They made hope, self-esteem, sweet words… wisps of dreams. They hoped the wings would help them sour up and up, to the realms of god. But they didn’t know something. They had forgotten the fact that the mind knows when it has reached an artificial point, and that an artificial wing will lead an artificial flight. And thus human beings fell. They flew, but they fell. And that was all because their flight was never really true.

Knowledge. The only pure and sweet thing in the world. The scent of books, of ink, of crumbly paper pierces the nose, and the brain wakes up from a long sleep. The brain no longer dreams. It is no longer under the power of fantasies and flying fish, but of hard-core reality and flying mosquitos. Pureness is never honey. Pureness is sweet, but it is only sweetness to the mind that wishes to wake up from a nightmare. And all dreams are nightmares, but human beings never realize that.

Me. I woke up from a dream. You were hidden behind flowers in the dream, and I was the only one who could find you. But tomorrow swooped down to embrace me with its wings. You are no longer hidden between flowers, and I am no longer the only person who can find you. No, not flowers. Never flowers. Such sweetness could never exist here. Where mankind that has failed their flight come down to mingle with knowledge, honey is no longer true. You are hidden behind black chaos, and I am the only one who could not find you, or even see you behind the chaos.

Chaos. You try to find me. But you can never find me. I am chaos, nothingness, everything. Other people seek their dreams inside me, see through me, but you will never see me. Because you are knowledge in your being itself. Wendy, your Pan is no longer. When you dreamt, I was everything that a dream holds to you. But Wendy, you are now knowledge. You cannot dream, and thus I cannot be Pan to you. Wendy, I am chaos.

Wendy, Peter Pan is dead.

#stellakim #essay