Tightrope Walker

Awoke today with nothing to say, nothing to do but talk to you. Where did you go? I walk to the lake but you’re not there, I miss your stare and warm embrace, I miss your face. If only I could get back to you, it would put my mind at ease. I remember the day you walked away, where did you go?

All my life I’ve been chasing shadows in the dark. Searching for something that had no identity or shape, intangible. Fleeting moments pass through me when I can taste it, feel it. I salivate and take a whiff of the sweet smells that float through the air, savor the scent, take note of my surroundings and state of mind. Then I blink, and as quickly as it arrives it is gone. These moments do not behave within the bounds of linear, temporal perception of time; nor do they exclude the sense of motion that accompanies our everyday life. Consciousness is expansive and inclusive, broad and far reaching. I sense the upward axis on the temporal plane that is available to us if we let go.

I know that one day I will find it. I don’t know when but I’ve felt it in my stomach, a harbinger of the moment, a preview of what is to come. Until then I continue to look without regard for what the search means to the structure and sanity of my daily life. Any clue is pursued; any feeling is explored and felt to its fullest extent t in order to determine its relevance. It is stressful at times, teetering on the brink of madness as I wonder if it’s all worth it or even if I am sane enough to judge the veracity of the path I have followed thus far.

Some mornings I wake up with an inexplicable sorrow washing over me. I feel like screaming until I can’t anymore, screaming at nothing, shaking my fist at the universe. I know that it might make it feel better but it won’t make it go away so I never do. I remain, surrounded by clouds, shrouded in mist.

I have narrowed down the field a bit. I know many things it is not, but very few things it is. When I walk down the street, sometimes I see it in a stranger’s eyes. They are on the inside looking out at me, as I knock on the windowpane with a sense of urgency. I can see that they want desperately to help me, but their look says that only I can let myself in. They do not know where my key lies. No two paths are the same. Yet, there is only one path, the one that leads home, to the heart of the matter, and once I arrive we will all be there together, as if we never parted.