journal

Unsuppressed Introspection

I am aloft in the world. It is my globe and I am at it’s center. I float, hands lifted, reaching for truth. It shakes and I come crashing down. I taste the earth and melt into the trees. Life is still alive, pulsing through my nerveless fingers. The birds chirp out secrets and the plants pound their hearts desires to the water’s beat. But I am no longer listening. I am wind. I float through time and forget to exist. I simply come and go. I become simple. Commune with the atmosphere and disappear into the corners of space. I am boundless and limitless. Unstoppable. Caressing your skin as I pass through you. This land is dark and does not know reason. Logic brings nothing but despair, here. Emotions are spectres of a past long forgotten. Their ghostly tendrils reach for me, but I am beyond their grasp. Beyond touch. Whisking past the weeping and the smiling alike. Yearning towards the vanishing stars. I am all and nothing. Void and silence. Blood and song and the beating of a heart. At once both more and less than I ever could be. Inside of you? No. Close is a fiction for the tender of heart. Distance holds the promises of yesterday and tomorrow. I reach until, at last, I grasp it. And become a simple animal, once more. Do not try to make sense of these things. They are free-falling. Free.

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