The longer that I am here, the more that I realize that we are all alone. We wish to be by others, to see and be seen, to love and be loved in our totality.
But this is something that is beyond our grasp.
We can be by another for years and decades, but never truly know their spirit. Never knowing the maddening idea that is them. For even when we see them, we don’t. The secret lives that live inside of their hearts. The desires that reside below their conscious thoughts that drive them where they do.
These are not knowable things. For without them truly knowing themselves, how can we hope to understand them and share this knowledge with them?
I don’t think we can.
We can only seek to learn our own minds. With its dangerous minefields and sharpened rusty pikes on which we impale ourselves. A terrible and dangerous place that leads out into the unknown.
Perhaps this is why so many choose distractions over self-knowledge. Is that so painful that we would forever decide not to know? Of course, this would assume we consciously made this decision.
So it would seem.
I choose to embrace this pain. The little death that is sleep each night. The tumultuous dreams that haunt and sear. These are the parts of the night that become long. A second that lasts forever, a day that lasts a year, a year that is gone in a second.
But for the sweet release of the unimagined mind. A place that takes me far and away. To places that were lost long ago before these stars began to take shape and after the crushing collapse of a heat death universe.
A glassy sky,
A dusty leather jacket,
A long ago smoked and dried out cigar,
A skeletal hand buried in the white sand…