BECOME

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by

NewStarr Staff
in ,

BECOME
by Steve Teare
6:35 minutes
Published: Feb 26, 2025
Genre: Romance

Beautifully poetic meditation on self-awareness, awakening, and the tension between truth and comfort. It weaves between lyrical verses and introspective prose, creating a dreamlike yet philosophical narrative.

Key Themes & Analysis

1. The Call to Awakening

  • The text repeatedly questions whether individuals will “wake” or “turn away” when faced with deeper truths.
  • Awakening is framed as both an opportunity and a challenge—“A fleeting spark, a fleeting chance to break the dream, to learn to dance.”
  • The metaphor of a dream suggests that many live in a comfortable illusion rather than seeking deeper understanding.

2. The Fear of Truth

  • “Most men do not seek the truth; they seek comfort wrapped in the illusion of truth.”
  • This statement captures a timeless philosophical idea: people often prefer familiar falsehoods to unsettling realities.
  • The narrator acknowledges that truth cannot be forced upon others—each person must be ready to receive it.

3. The Role of the Observer & The Subtle Art of Revelation

  • The narrator positions themselves as an observer rather than a guide, aware of their own limitations:
    • “Do I awaken them or merely disturb their dreams?”
    • There is humility in this—awakening is not an act of superiority but of mutual discovery.
  • The “delicate art of revelation” is emphasized. A sudden or forceful unveiling of truth leads to fear and resistance, while a well-placed question can gently open a door.
  • This reflects a Socratic method of guidance—leading someone to their own realization rather than imposing knowledge upon them.

4. The Haunting Beauty of Those Who Awaken

  • “Some run, some deny, some laugh… but a rare few, perhaps only one in a dozen, pause.”
  • This moment of pause is described as haunting in a beautiful way, as if the rarity of true awakening gives it immense meaning.
  • The act of witnessing someone step into self-awareness is profound—like seeing a soul stir after a long sleep.

5. Fate, Synchronicity & Meaningful Encounters

  • The narrator believes that certain meetings are not accidental:
    • “Synchronicity is a subtle hand, and I have long since ceased questioning its design.”
    • This suggests a quiet belief in destiny, or at least in the unseen patterns that shape human connections.
  • The mention of Thomas Carlyle (a philosopher and historian) adds depth, implying that these thoughts are not new but part of a long intellectual tradition.

6. Not for Glory, But for the Soul

  • The repeated line—“Not for glory, not for gain, but for the soul that stirs again.”—reinforces the idea that true awakening is a personal, internal journey.
  • The act of seeking truth is not for external validation but for a deeper fulfillment.

Tone & Style

  • Mystical & Philosophical: The text blends poetic reflection with existential inquiry, reminiscent of 19th-century philosophical literature.
  • Dreamlike & Evocative: The imagery of mist, cobblestone streets, flickering gaslights, and distant bells gives it an ethereal, almost Victorian Gothic feel.
  • Introspective & Humble: The narrator does not claim to have all the answers but shares their thoughts with curiosity and reverence.

Possible Interpretations

  1. A Personal Awakening – The narrator is reflecting on their own journey of self-discovery, seeing their past self in others who have yet to awaken.
  2. A Meditation on Society – The passage critiques how most people prefer illusion to truth, echoing philosophers like Plato (Allegory of the Cave).
  3. A Metaphor for Artistic or Spiritual Calling – The struggle of awakening could represent the process of creativity, spirituality, or personal growth.

Final Thoughts

This piece is both a call and a lament—a recognition that few will awaken, but for those who do, the journey is profound. It is a deeply poetic exploration of human consciousness, offering both philosophical weight and an emotional undercurrent of longing and wonder.

TRANSCRIPT: I walk the streets of mist and stone where Echoes whisper not alone behind each gaze a hidden key a door they fear yet long to see or will you wake or turn away the truth is calling come what may a fleeting spark a fleeting chance to break the dream to learn to dance a word a glance the thread unwinds the Restless stirrings of their minds some will falter some will fight few will step into the light the dream is warm the dark is kind but something calls from deep inside do you seek do you run or face the self you could become or will you wake or turn away the truth is calling come what may not for Glory not for gain but for the soul that stirs again [Music] I have long since understood that most men do not seek the truth they seek Comfort wrapped in the illusion of Truth this awareness does not burden me nor does it embolden me with some lofty sense of superiority it simply is a fact of existence like the rain upon cobblestones The Gaslight flickering in the evening mist or the distant clip-clop of a carriage horse Against The Damp Streets of London I walk these streets passing faces both familiar and strange knowing that within each one Slumbers a self unknown even to its keeper some will wake in time others never will it is not my place to Rouse them forcefully nor to lament their Slumber I have learned to listen to watch to wait to test when the moment is right there is a delicate art to Revelation too much too quickly and they recoil afraid angry grasping for the fragile walls they have built around themselves too little and they remain in their dream undisturbed but sometimes ah sometimes a question a glance a single carefully placed observation unlocks a door they never knew existed and there in the widening of their eyes in the faltering of their breath I see it the moment they Glimpse what has been hidden within them all along some run some deny some laugh dismissing it as folly but a rare few perhaps only one in a dozen pause they stand upon the threshold uncertain yet unable to turn away those are the ones who haunt me in the most beautiful way and yet I wonder do I awaken them or merely disturb their dreams I do not claim to be a guide nor a teacher I am but a fellow traveler on this road discovering as much about myself as I do about them and And yet when I recognize another when the silent resonance hums between us like a distant Bell I know the meeting was never chance synchronicity is a subtle hand and I have long since ceased questioning its design Perhaps it is fate or the quiet work of some unseen Force One that a mind like carlile’s might Ponder in his essays or a poet might dress in verse Perhaps it is foolish to concern oneself with Awakening others when one’s own path remains unfinished but I have never sought Perfection only depth and if by some quiet word or well-placed question I can help another see themselves truly see then I shall have done what I was meant to do not for the world not for Glory but for the undeniable pull of knowing that even one soul in this vast and sleeping city has stirred I walk the streets of mist and stone were aies not alone behide it gaze a hidden key they fear get long to see how will you wake or turn away the truth is Calling May fleeing spark flee in chance to break the dream to learn to [Music] [Applause] dance word CL the thread on wands Restless jings of their minds some will F some will fight you te into the light the dream is war the dark is but something calls from deep inside do you see do you run or face the S you could become [Music] oh will you wake or turn away the truth is calling come one not for Glory not for game for the soul that stirs again.