Myths are stories humans tell when facts are not enough. They are the oldest way we make sense of what cannot be explained.
It is the story of a bird named Omanis, this bird was unique, he had two heads. One of the head was in the past, the other one in the future. Omenis had a problem, his two heads never agreed. Should we fly to the past or to the future. Backward or forward?
MY SIAMESE MIND
Nostor, the head of memory, wove dreams of the past, of the mother he had lost, of the home that no longer existed, of the voices that once called his name. Veyos, the head of the future, spun visions of what could be, of the skies he would conquer. of he lands he would discover, of the stories he would live. But between them, Omenis never moved. He saw everything. He lived nothing. Dreams became his prison. Omenis became trapped in the world of his minds.
In his dream, Omenis landed in a valley carved by the River of Echoes, where the past was never truly gone. The waters of the River of Echoes were unlike any other. Instead of reflecting the sky, the river reflected memories. Living moments, shimmering just beneath the surface. Omenis dipped his beak. The river whispered, stay with us. You never have to move on. For days, Omenis drank, trapped in nostalgia. He became heavy with the weight of all what was lost
Omenis soared for days in his dreams, until he arrived at the city of the unfinished thoughts, where the people worshipped Tomorrow. Where nothing was ever started. Omenis felt a weight settle in his chest. The fear of imperfection, The fear of the unfinished, The fear of being less than what he imagined.
For the first time, the wind felt different, not as a echo from the past or a promise from the future, but as something real, something now. Omenis hovered in the sky, his siamese mind silent, no longer at war. They simply were.
The river was behind them. The unknown was ahead. And for the first time, Omenis did not need to choose. He carried the past within his wings, The future within his breath. He belongs to neither. He belongs to the sky.
Omenis turned toward the sun and flew. Not to escape, not to return, no longer bound to what was or what might be. Omenis soared, weightless, free. And Omenis knew, He is not one or the other. He is not past or future. He is all.
The past is not a cage. The future is not a chase. We are part of the same sky