The bitter taste of ice wormed it’s way to the back of my throat as I turned the corner onto NE 57th Blvd. Around me, passerbys dressed in a number of flashy and unorthodox clothing styles sped past, each more eager than the last to get to their destination. None would meet my eye; most had their gaze glued to the screen of their small black rectangles - Iphones, as I would soon learn they’re called. It seemed to be one of the haziest summers I could recall since before ending up in that frozen casket. The sun beat down on the mass of people, and quickly warmed up my chafing, brittle limbs.

It didn’t do anything to relieve the sickening feeling of dread broiling within me, however.

Left, right, left, right.

I noted each wobbly step I took down the bustling sidewalk. Despite the relative anonymity of pedestrian travel in a big metropolis like this, I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about my appearance and foreign mannerisms. Well, I didn’t find them foreign, but to these civilians I must’ve stuck out like a sore thumb; a blazing needle in the haystack of New York City.

After walking for half an hour, I wormed my way through the dense crowd and found myself standing in a spaceous, well-lit park. The skyline seemed to reach beyond the very edges of the horizon and struck the leaves of each tree like brilliant roman candles against a backdrop of baby blue. Individuals and families alike strolled down the cobblestone sidewalk with an air of disinterest and self containment, for which I was more than grateful. As I continued to explore the extent of the lofty grassy square, I did draw the stares of a few curious youngsters who gave me questioning glances that seemed to ask “Who are you? You appear so different from everyone else.”

Although in my time they never reveled in many social courtesies either; children never change, I suppose.

Across the marbled pathway, an elderly couple sat on a well furnished bench, leisurely indulging in each other’s company. On the left, the gray-haired woman dressed in a velvet blouse turned to the man next to her and murmured something trivial; an astute observation of a stranger striding past, or a clever recount of a past experience - something intimate only loved ones who have gone through hell and back would be able to fully relish in together. Her companion pursed his lips, clearly attempting to refrain from breaking into hearty laughter, and whispered quiet words of affection back.

If I had aged normally, if those years of suffering and cruelty had not brought me to that laboratory in Tuscon, would that be my life? Would I have been able to enjoy human luxuries like all the other men and women who rose from the ashes of wartime and made a new future for themselves?

If so, why would the vile fates in heaven have awoken me from that infinite slumber, and bestowed upon me this picturesque sight of mortal contentment. Of a future I was never allowed.

Maybe it was selfish to want a normal life. After all, I had been giften an opportunity many back then would have killed to obtain. And there was a certain irony to that, I think - such a willingness to hurt others, only to result in dying yourself.

Looking at the quaint pair in front of me, I suppose not all things can be sacrificed for immortality. At least, not the things that make life matter.

So I walked up to them, treading calming along the freshly cut grass and around the burly oak tree. I wasn’t sure if they had seen my form approaching, but as soon as I got near they swiveled their owlish gaze towards me. For a few moments, no one spoke a word. I was a bundle of nerves, of doubt and despair and worry for what may come now that I was once again human. Like a ghost floating through the country of the living, this old land I had inhabited so many lifetimes again was new again, and the buildings, the culture, the people themselves - they had all continued to grow and progress, leaving me behind to wait in the wings forevermore.

My emotions must have been evident on my face, because all of a sudden the woman drew closer to her husband and the two exchanged a concerned look. Regret pulsed through me; I was about to rescind my steps and head back to the crowd when the elderly man turned around again to meet my gaze.

He gave me a lukewarm smile, and asked:

"Are you all right, young man? You seem a bit shaken."

He was right. I was a bit shaken. Really, had I been holding this inside all this time? Trying to make sense of this world, of reality, was more than any person could take. It was ridiculous.

Yes, it was all truly ridiculous.

Maybe that's what made it so wonderful.

I choked back a sob, or was it laughter? I didn't know, and I suppose I still don't. But his words gave me comfort, in a way. Because I was alive now. I was someone who could feel these emotions, these conflicting thoughts that warred with each other day and night, in sickness and even beyond death.

Human, after all. And that's more than I could ever ask for.

"Yes, I'm fine sir.

I'm - I'll be all right now.

Thank you for your concern.

Have a lovely day."

It stretches as far as the eye can see

A dark stagnant border

that separates you and me

Beyond the line

I see you flipping through today's paper

A latte in one hand

New York Times in the other

You leave both on the table

I guess that work starts tomorrow

Behind the line

I hear you streaking down Fulton Street

Curfew calls

but not loud enough

You miss the last ride home

I guess that work starts today

Beside the line

You feel me battling against the life outside

Their walls close in

Descartes' dream is on replay

I inch my way towards the border

You guess that work started yesterday

Oh woeful watcher of my soul,

who guards my pitiful countenance 

as an unadulterated consul

that bears smoldering travail

and pursues my unholy grail;

silencing murderous voices that

reverberate dissonance.

Oh weary watcher of my soul,

who gathers tattered strips of humanity

from which now rises an ashen ghoul

with brutality as its maker

and shameless banality as its framer;

utters nothing but lies and

possesses nothing but vanity.

Oh prudent watcher of my soul,

who stands wakeful at the break of dawn

stares into the abyss - the bottomless hole

the consul she is, the consul she’ll stay

vicar of the ghoul, once ashen now gray;

chasing an omitted purpose

that was long forgone.

Ruddy cheeks and icy palms,

Frozen dew melt beneath,

Flurries of white burst through wintry calm,

Dusting a glacial wreath.

Long after the storm fades

and the squalls have whittled to dust

He stands at the edge of the precipice

wailing in misery and burning with

Loneliness.

If only he had been faster

If only he had been better

If only he had been gone

but he is not, and all that's left is

Resentment.

The blue dot keeps spinning

Seeds grow and weeds die

He crouches at the edge of the world

above the crypt that holds what remains

Darkness closes in and the smoke breeds

Uncertainty.

But light pierces forth; breaching the wrath

of the twilight and scattering the smog

He sobs at the edge of what's lost

Tears springing from the cracks in his facade

A breath of freedom escapes the chains of

Guilt.

Warmth caresses his weary soul

sounds of life radiate through the barren land

He kneels at the edge of the precipice

Despite it all, laughter ripples through

the ashes float past; a new spirit rises

that is how he heals, that is his

Gratitude.

This song spoke to me on a personal level because it confronted many of the same worries and questions I have about myself and the way the world works today. Listening to it gave me a sense of resolve and comfort knowing I'm not alone in my uncertainty.

“I wonder why I feel short when my money’s tall.” Even when I’m successful and achieve my goals, I don’t find myself with the pride and satisfaction I should be feeling.

“I wonder why I miss everyone and I still don’t call.” Loneliness engulfs me and seeps through everything I do like a pernicious virus. I want to feel connected with other people again, but I can’t bring myself to take that first step and reach out.

“I wonder why they say hate your brother and hide your gold. I wonder why we all fear the things that we might not know.” The harsh reality of today is that people have become selfish and greedy and judgemental. We’re told to keep our successes to ourselves and drag everyone else down to get where we want to go. Status quo is sacred, and no one is open to challenging their beliefs and discovering new points of view.

I can’t offer an answer as to why we’ve become like this. There are things I can’t explain about myself or other people. But Bellion offers a sense of condolence with his words.

“Although I guess if I knew tomorrow, I guess I wouldn’t need faith. I guess if I never fell, I guess I wouldn’t need grace. I guess if I knew His plans, I guess He wouldn’t be God.”

The point of being human is existing in the unknown. We walk in the darkness, letting our choices take us wherever we’re supposed to go, whether it’s triumph or failure. And we live with that. We lift our chin up and power forward, knowing we can survive, and knowing a belief in a better future is all that is needed to get there.

So maybe I don’t know what’s waiting for me.

But maybe that’s okay.