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. Why should I not leave it unwritten and unspoken? The saying “If you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all,” 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 this darkness can only be traversed with the aid of unfamiliar senses.
In this space my mind writhes in the slurry of a void where articulated edges struggle to be defined. I cast into the unknown depths with my yearning for secret knowledge, and the void responds by tugging at the frayed edges of my weary soul. A fragmented glimmer of hope surfaces and beckons, bearing archaic forms from which I gather sustenance in creative energy flows.
Dreams. Other worlds. Existence in a form I do not recognize. There I dwell in spirit, though I was born into a world where collective experience threatens to control my individual experience and define for me what it means to BE. Who is to say what is real and what is not? Somewhere beyond the reality we call experience an echoing ring of familiarity calls to my imagination. There is a feeling of longing that rushes my senses and fills me with apprehension for a place out of reach; a place where I am all and more than I dream to be. It is like a home, long forgotten.
In the darkness, it is difficult to define a thing such as loneliness, for all is without. Yet within the void, where all creation dwells and form and frequency abound, loneliness is a friend unbidden and always near. Within creation, the ME who I am to BE seeks sanctuary among the stars. Why do I find safety and solace in a distant form that casts its light across the eons of emptiness where my eye draws it inward with wonderous enamor?
I have discovered no secret that can satisfy the qualms of the soul. Though, the journey is revealing to much more than my mind can comprehend. All I can suffice for what may be deemed noteworthy is the following possibility. I share in hopes of awakening a sense of meaning in another lonely souls’ existence.
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.