Children of the spectrum, Poetic prose and defining oneself.

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(Don't really know where to put it.)

Children of the spectrum.


To those who ended here, know this first:
I'm of the easy tiers, "brainiac" tendency(Light Aspie)
The ones whose life is disturbed, not transformed.
I'm not a doctor, this is how I face myself.

I'm lost as all, feeble in my attention to this world
but committed to all that is around.

There have been many night when I wondered,
Why? How? Who maybe?
The truth is, it is all parts of what makes me.

We sail at night when society tells us our days are bleak.
We range the days when other see only a boring road,
For we meet heroes once passed or never born.
We forget our tasks to remember our dreams,
and realize our goals trough flying astray.

We sing the songs of forgotten languages, the primal call of our ancestors.
We shout life to a world of appearance and artificiality.
We tire of it easily and retreat, then create new paths.

There are words to describe this, but I would rather call it,
The colours of life mixed with blood and pain and love.
The fear of causing pain, knowing how much it shall hurt back.
Self-preservation through complete isolation.

Sometimes, we are locked inside, yet opened to all that comes.
We hear the lies, the pain, the love, the hopes and the calls for help,
Most of the time we try not too hear them too quick, yet none too quietly,
and so we suffer our brethren humans every bliss and agony,
we feel their joy and prides to the point when some wonder if we are the day's winner.

Injustice rings more than a will to cry, it causes physical pain.
Betrayal is not just anger contained but a chemical bound breaking,
We are wired to feel it, but until we know it, we feel powerless.
For strangely enough, when enabled most of us are bright.

Bright of life's understanding, some scientist, some creative, most both.
Everyone of us as a special creativity locked,
There under the nerve raking experience of losing conscience to the wind,
the spectrum does not have to mean pain or loneliness.

Don't fear, we err, we get lost, we shout, we trash, then we create.
Most of us have inherited what the classifiers call with barbaric names
IQ, EQ and a color on the rainbow of seeing existence with open eyes.

It is not so much as refusing the world as refusing its limitations.
When joy overrides the boundaries to lose ourselves to it.
When pain destroys a nearby fellow, to share in it and cry
and hurl ourselves on the ground with them.

When emotions leak from all around, to seep them in and sometimes lose it.
Lose the sense of real, of objective, or correct, of limits.
Remembering our ancestors, free in the wild, shouting the primal will to live on.
Shouting the primal will to love and share and build and connect.

Boundaries are void of sense when faced with the ultimate term,
as such the spectrum is just another line to explain life unknown to most,
a limit imposed on those who are lost in the signals their brains send.

Don't destroy us, don't crush us, learn, observe, listen, help us try to say.
Empower those who do not have the brain power to free themselves
of the bounds of fear and pain of the world they were sent in.
We need time to master our senses, to cut some, to use those we choose to.
Empower yourself by making one of the lost ones aware of the locked capacities inside.

For where you may have been told there is a handicap,
opportunities lie in waiting, a world rich beyond your wildest dreams.

We are children of the spectrum.
We are children of Earth.
We are.

(Comments here or on my blog [The eldariasis @blogspot], if you wish.)

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