In life’s passageways, unable to see the other side, I wander, bereft of ambition, yet full of hope, searching for that elusive something that will lead me to know that it has all been worthwhile after all.
Clever words, jaunty phrases juxtaposed into unending sentences are never going to get me there, but I think they may be bridges between real time and sometime. I travel on…
When you are searching, you will inevitably turn up things never meant to be found. They are discoveries best left behind closed doors. I search for peace and I find a war of words that shatters the silence. Dreams are myths I create. Nightmares and rancid thoughts take over my very existence.
The will to be constructive, to be a person who thinks and acts, is practical wisdom. Real life weaves in roadblocks, obsolescence, negative attitudes to stop you from attaining that which you work for, work towards.
Nevertheless, the search continues. I may trudge, occasionally trot, often run, and my holy grail is that much more distant, more perplexing, and soon a figment of a stressful imagination.
I put myself into some perspective. Address my issues in the third person singular; look from on top at my life going on below, like a near-death experience. If I can see the after-life, why is it I cannot perceive the now?
Nations might disappear at the flick of Presidential switches. Planets implode when some cosmic switch is thrown. I disappear when I want to. What mechanism makes me vanish? My body feels a material loss, a deprivation of comforts known, and a lack of tangibility. My mind expands to fill these voids, this vacuum created by not having the familiar to touch, smell, eat, drink, love…
Hiding away, yet remaining at least remotely accessible creates a sense of security, of being cocooned in a muslin mosquito net. Within this pre-fabricated shell of alienation, of intentional withdrawal, I seek redemption in words.