I try not to think about the darkness that exists in this world at times, or just how deep that darkness can get within the soul of a human being. But I am of this world, and I think, therefore, I think in the dark as well as in the light. It seems unavoidable not to, especially if you have an inquisitive mind and wonder all the questions about what we make of the human experience.
In that questioning quest for truth, I am engulfed by the burning urge to reveal my opinions, though I know not why. There is a feeling of constant despair that comes with revealing my opinion about anything, as though it doesn’t really matter to anything or anyone, so why not leave it unwritten and unspoken? The cliche “If you have nothing good to say, say nothing” tolls in my mind like a reckoning bell. I wonder though, who is doing the determining of what is good to say and what should be left unsaid? There, within that darkness I sit, seeking the visions that will somehow inspire my efforts to be a meaningful part of existence. There I strain to see in this darkest of dark, and to focus on the shadows that lie beyond the sight of my reasoning mind.
It seems to me as though this darkness can only be traversed by the soul with the aid of unfamiliar senses. For in this space no sound can be born without a tongue to speak, and the mind will writhe in the slurry where no edges can be defined. I cast forth with my heart the bait of love for knowledge, and it ripples back through the apparent void, tickling the frayed edges of my weary soul and bringing with it the shapes of those archaic forms from which I gather sustenance for self-preservation.
If this reality, all of that which surrounds us, is not what we define as real, then what does it mean to exist within a reality we cannot comprehend? What does existence mean to one who cannot see, hear, taste or feel? Do they really exist? For those who have the senses to experience what we collectively call reality, what does it mean if reality is not what can be defined as real, but an experience far beyond the human senses? Is the true foundation of existence beyond what we can experience here in this creation? What if it is not the experience that defines reality, but instead that reality is defined by how we interact with it? As each of us is able to interact with creation in our own unique way, is true reality then defined in each one of us as its own separate experience? Who then is to say what is real and what is not?
Within the void where all creation dwells, form and frequency abound. Without the tools to sense, the spirit that is the witness must find another way to experience what it is to exist.
Dreams. Other worlds. Existence in a form I do not yet recognize. Yet, I am born into a world where collective experience threatens to control our individual experience and define for us what it means to BE. Those who seek to dominate and control in order to validate their own existence will never understand why they are rebuked by the dreamers of the world. Self-validation has consumed their whole being so much, that they writhe at the mere thought of perceiving a reality beyond the one that they have conjured.
We are the light of the stars, focused to a point of chaotic equilibrium, travelling in an unfamiliar realm. Bound to form and function, yet always seeking to move in limitless ways beyond the reality that is placed before us. We are the dream born into creation and through the dream we explore without bounds.
We are the Vision in the endless Night.