Nostradamus was the first,
followed by such men as Buddha,
Confucious, Gandhi, and even the great Dr. King.
These men all had a gift...
The sagacious understanding of human behavior.
They knew and understood things that most could not grasp,
They could quantify actions that would mystify even the greatest psychologists...
Two of those men went on to spur religions,
One is a legend in the struggle for equality in America,
And one predicted the end of the world.
It is from these men, that my intellect is derived.
There is no subject that my brain computer cannot transcribe,
Synthesize, or philosophize.
It is a black hole, a vacuum for information and input,
On the other side of which is an area of vast knowledge,
An infinite lea of blossoms of concepts, ideas, thoughts, facts, opinions, everything.
Oh what a beautiful mind I was afforded,
But how the weather once was.
There was not always sunshine and blossoms;
There was once only darkness and despair,
Tumult and trepidation,
Unlikely cohorts in an overall feeling of self-hatred.
Rather than the current halcyon maelstrom,
The black hole was a supernova...
A beautiful, dying star.
The brilliance I displayed was simply the converse manifestation of the absolute darkness that strove to consume me...
I could win Spelling Bees and ace tests, but could not look in the mirror without disgust,
The darkness began to seep through my fibrous tissues with every brain pulse.
As time progressed, so did it; I thought less and less of myself...
My intellect was in its infancy, I had not tapped into its potential yet,
But as it grew, it was also dying...this paradoxical maturation was beyond stressful,
And began to align itself with the darkness...
I became a cruel boy, demeaning and traducing others for my own twisted enjoyment.
The darkness knew of the power...it knew of the expressive powers of my mind, how I could use language as a tool or, as it preferred, as a weapon.
I made people cry on demand, but only to paradox the tears within me,
As I became further and further disillusioned with the idea of acceptance.
My peers, my Black brothers and sisters, could not appreciate me...
My intellect needed to latch on to something, before the course of its self-destruction was done;
Those peers of mine only used me...used me for the gift that I had been cursed with,
But in that was yet another paradox: in being used, I saw the light...this stunning brilliance.
I sought to cultivate this effulgence, but before progress was made, the darkness consumed all hope...
I had reached the point where I was interested in females...and I began to judge my luck with them by the luck of others.
This was my darkest moment.....there was nothing left for my intellect.
No acceptance, no females, no self-appreciation...the darkness had consumed all.
My intellect led me to believe that its self-destruction behooved a concomitant physical self-destruction...suicide.
I wrote a poem about the relinquishing of one's own life, and at that moment, I saw a glimmer...
A glimmer of hope, a glimmer of the positivity and light of poetry, literature in general.
This glimmer would remain present from 2006, until 2009.
It was in this year, this 18th year of life, that I focused all other brain powers to the cessation of the darkness.
Paradoxically, to defeat the darkness darkness had to be the weapon..and so, I walked to a bridge and peered over, much like the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon.
It was at that moment, this moment of indulging in the darkness, this moment of logical illogicality, that the darkness cracked.
The supernova that once was began to fall apart, giving way to a black hole...
A vacuum that has been cultivated into that which is before you today.
Never could I have imagined that such a grand and sublime expanse was concealed by the darkness.
But, the darkness was necessary; it played an integral role in the matriculation of my intellect through the bevy of faculties that were pieces to the puzzle of relinquishing one's mind from secular faculties.
This had been ordained by the Universe, She that cradles all life, She that strokes all dreams.
She that foresaw the Gods. This was her plan, as enacted by God himself.
The two cohorts instilled in me the virtues, morals, and beliefs of many different men,
So that I may struggle with finding a medium between them all,
While developing an intellect that craved all it could handle, that got insatiable at times.
Their plan has culminated in the young man before you.
Ever confused, overly self-effacing, honest to a fault, accidentally quasi-ascetic.
I challenge even the simplest concepts, while making light of the most complex,
I see things from all angles, taking factors into account in seconds that would take some days.
The scope of my intellect is immeasurable, as nothing is to preposterous to attempt to extrapolate into reality, or vice versa for that matter.
My mind grasps the concepts of mono and polytheism, creating a new and avant-garde theistic belief that even leaves me in awe at times,
For the amount of thought that goes into my everyday is simply mind-boggling,
Yet it seems to have an aura of normalcy to it.
My mind will never be at ease, for there will always be something in store for it...
Whether it advice, theology, philosophy, or whatever.
I am troubled by the lack of explanation for my existence,
Yet revel in it as well, for most exist out of logic.
I stand on the cusp of greatness, and on the shoulders of giants.
I am meant to do something here...something far beyond my dreams.
And in the process, I am to touch and change lives.
Or, and here's a profound thought:
I am one totally deranged, insane, and simply lost motherf*cker with an overly active imagination.
I'll leave that one up to you.
-A. Lewis
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