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Emeric Damian : In Simplicity : In The Unknown

It’s a thing that sits in the shadows

in poetry of a kind

It’s a thing that sits in the shadows

It’s something that I am always trying to grasp.

It’s a thing that sits in the shadows, calling to me, comforting me with its lack of boundaries.

The ineffable being that wants to share, that promises to share its secrets with me if only I will walk into the darkness.

I know the fear of the unknown, its all unknown.

How can I live in terror of everything?

How can I live like that?

How can any of us live like that? We can’t.

Then why do we keep trying to?

Maybe the density of our ignorance is more than the world can handle. We’ll soon collapse into an iron heap of exhaustion.

Until then we will grasp onto anyone who offers a hand, knowingly or not; if they are in our vicinity we will stretch out in a desperate attempt to feel, to see, to know if they are the one who will let us experience ourselves, filling us with the false knowledge of who or what we are.

And in the meantime well go on feigning contentment and happiness.

I know I can only be disappointed in them. It’s the way isn’t it?

It’s the way that is the obstacle to understanding myself.

No, it’s the experience that screams back at me, shooting me through with the truth of my existence, that I will never find my space in an other.

How could I?

I am me while everyone else is everyone else but me.

There is only one space where I can be.

You can’t be here. I can’t be there.

I’m glad this is so, even though I am sad that I can never fully know your experience.

I don’t want you to know mine, not entirely at least. There are too many things that I don’t want you to know, emotions, mental states, potentialities that I wouldn’t wish upon another.

What does it mean for me to acknowledge this?

It means loneliness and discontent; it means possibility and adventure.

I haven’t been to that place that I believe exists.

I’m going there if I’m not already.

Maybe I’m an idealist, a romantic who can only fail, but failing by blindness is not the failure I’m participating in.

I’m going into failure knowing that I am in control of my reactions, in control of anything and everything that I experience because I know I can’t control any of it.

That is all I need to know. But is that ever enough.

Let me run free into death. If that is how it plays out then that is how it plays out.

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