Sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to live nine lives, like a cat, and if they will go by too fast for my liking.
Nine lives, nine deaths, nine hello’s, and nine goodbyes.
Nine, the number that’s the sum of everything I try to hide; nine, the number of secrets I keep that tear me up inside; nine, the number of locks in the vault of my past; nine, the number of curses and prayers I've cast; nine, the number of kingdoms that I've left behind.
For the Hebrew people, nine is a symbol of truth. In Japan, the number nine is considered to be ominous and unlucky. The number nine, when pronounced by the Japanese, sounds too much like their word for "pain" or "suffering."
According to the Bible, the Ninth Hour is the Hour of Prayer, as Jesus died during the ninth hour, crucified by the Romans on the Calvary, in Golgotha.
And there are also Nine Circles of Hell in Dante's Divine Comedy, in which sinners of all kinds journey through the Underworld's much feared and mythical infernal spheres.
So, how many times do I need to pray? How many hours, days, years, or lives do I need to atone, to right everything I've done wrong in this life, in my mortal form?
If the pattern is any indicator at all, then Nine is the answer for all the questions I've asked God.
Nine is a finite number, yet it holds infinite values, to me; it is the number of voids in my nothingness, the number of dimensions in my consciousness, and the number of lessons I need to learn, to evolve.
Nine will forever be greater than the sum of its parts –than every part there is to my being, as a whole.
Hopefully, my nine lives won't go by too slow, and I can only hope that Karma has mercy on me, and my soul.
Author Bio:
Alva Cardona is a freelance digital marketer and web content developer with more than six years of professional experience. Alva holds a BA in Communications with a minor in Journalism from the University of Sacred Heart and currently lives in the beautiful Caribbean island of Puerto Rico. Her love for reading and coding can only be surpassed by her passion for writing poetry. And maybe coffee. And chocolate. Find her on Twitter here: @acardonac
Nine lives, nine deaths, nine hello’s, and nine goodbyes.
Nine, the number that’s the sum of everything I try to hide; nine, the number of secrets I keep that tear me up inside; nine, the number of locks in the vault of my past; nine, the number of curses and prayers I've cast; nine, the number of kingdoms that I've left behind.
For the Hebrew people, nine is a symbol of truth. In Japan, the number nine is considered to be ominous and unlucky. The number nine, when pronounced by the Japanese, sounds too much like their word for "pain" or "suffering."
According to the Bible, the Ninth Hour is the Hour of Prayer, as Jesus died during the ninth hour, crucified by the Romans on the Calvary, in Golgotha.
And there are also Nine Circles of Hell in Dante's Divine Comedy, in which sinners of all kinds journey through the Underworld's much feared and mythical infernal spheres.
So, how many times do I need to pray? How many hours, days, years, or lives do I need to atone, to right everything I've done wrong in this life, in my mortal form?
If the pattern is any indicator at all, then Nine is the answer for all the questions I've asked God.
Nine is a finite number, yet it holds infinite values, to me; it is the number of voids in my nothingness, the number of dimensions in my consciousness, and the number of lessons I need to learn, to evolve.
Nine will forever be greater than the sum of its parts –than every part there is to my being, as a whole.
Hopefully, my nine lives won't go by too slow, and I can only hope that Karma has mercy on me, and my soul.
Author Bio:
Alva Cardona is a freelance digital marketer and web content developer with more than six years of professional experience. Alva holds a BA in Communications with a minor in Journalism from the University of Sacred Heart and currently lives in the beautiful Caribbean island of Puerto Rico. Her love for reading and coding can only be surpassed by her passion for writing poetry. And maybe coffee. And chocolate. Find her on Twitter here: @acardonac
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