Taste the world with my feet

My mind is weak and it can’t keep out the storms. I have shuttered my windows, locked the doors, prepped for a long night in – I wait. And so it comes.

And so it comes. I know it very well. Like a tortured tune on the guitar string of my soul.

It is darkness at first and I plumb the depths. Scraping the very bottom. Languid. Listless. Half dead. Dark and brooding in a seething dense tumult of vanity. All is hopeless. All is decay. All is rot. I can smell the decay at the heart of everything. Physics taunts me with its Laws and those same Laws taunt me for my optimism.

And then. Suddenly. A star I know very well peeks through the dark clouds. Its sharpened rays like harpoons fasten me to their waist, and I am up and away! I am fastened to a shooting star and there is no stopping. All is possible. All is wonderful. And I nourish my imagination in a vast ocean of the stars and beyond. Ideas leap out of me on springs. In this frenzied state I see clearly the wholeness. I try and write down this sensation, this feeling, but it alludes me. Tortures me. Plays me. There have been nights when under the heavy bed sheets I suddenly wake up with the wholeness in my hand. It’s everywhere. Yet small enough to fit as a single idea in my palm. And as I fall asleep the idea unfurls into a billion petals that vanish into the sleepy night. But it will visit me again. It always does.

I seek answers when there are none to seek.
I seek mysteries when there are none that speak.
I seek you, when I taste the world with my feet.

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