It was on one of the quiet nights of December when time, finally, stood still. Space narrowed, becoming dense, and the story of a beginning was consecrated with the present. The worlds interacted in an unavoidable echo: above as below.
The train, which I once took with the hope of fleeing or leaving behind the shadow of an uncomfortable truth, turned out to be the track for confrontation. It was exactly that train that derailed.
There was no warning, only the certainty of a collision that led me to a place where the lines of life no longer existed. The crash was brutal, slamming me into a naked reality and causing even more wounds than those that already inhabited me. I was lost, aimless, and completely adrift, wrapped in the cold of emptiness.
And right there, at the most extreme point of drifting, I returned to life again.
In that instant of surrender, the story was revealed naked, with only its white inner garment, acting as the medicine for every pain. Now, on this December night that became dawn, its light infected every part of the scene with beautiful radiance. I understood that the pain I was cultivating here in my chest was not foreign, but a dam holding back the flow of the river.
Once the nature of the dam was understood, the course of action became inevitable. The dam vanished, and the river water circulated freely. The chest released what it held for so long. The cycle closed with deep gratitude, recognizing that all the smiles we shared will live forever as my best song.
The train awaits me again, but this time it is the train of conscious creation, now loaded with more than 88 horsepower—the strength of my authentic truth. We will go where limits cease to exist.
Freedom is not the absence of pain, but the free circulation of love, pain, and truth.