He lived and still lives there. In a cave, or say caves. Skipping from one to another in a brisk movement. Restless, vigorous, downcast, buoyant,… So what happened there and what did he bring out to the outside? He brought himself.
It all began in a small town, looking upward when all looked straight ahead. Hearing the houses as they sighed when none could even hear the tapping of their shoes on the ground. Eternally nestled in the midst of that cave, he decided to go out and see life from all directions, kneading it to his liking when no one dared look out their stained windows of soul.
With confident steps and the schemes of a little boy, he approached her, approached life. Awesome she was. Clutching her dangling earrings, he climbed to the top, and from there he saw everything and was given everything. Too soon, though. Since then, he has been walking on a tight-rope, afraid to fall into that which he could not mold into his perception.
The earth dwarfed in his eyes, life grows within his heart. He walks, as if on clouds, guided by his delusions.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She is the absolute; that is what he believed to be the untimely truth. She encircles him with her everlasting scent of unquenched desire. From there, he thought he could extract the essence of things. Intoxicated, he grabs the threads of meaning and weaves them as he wishes. So many weavings he has done that the core was lost. So as Penelope did in waiting for her beloved Agamemnon, he undid one weaving only to weave another. Millions of forms, millions of thoughts, millions of creations. None lasted for a time good enough for him to enjoy what his hands created.
A race it was and still is. Thoughts racing one another, one knocking the other down in a ring of ruthless wrestlers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He exposed her, but she betrayed him into forms. Tired, he kept wrestling. Almost unconscious, he kept wrestling. She consumed him, so he wrestled with himself. He detached himself from her. Now the two are on opposite sides, staring each other in the face. How could she be so rude as to ignore seeing what he meant when he brought himself to her. She removed the earrings once dangling for the audacious to clutch and climb as high as she could take them. She took off that scent that once led them through that cave. Nothing to catch, nothing to breathe.
This nagging vision, what is it? It all begins in that small town and that huge cave. For him, these were two irreconcilable worlds. How can one fit a huge cave into a small town, a broad image into a small frame?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Come down to earth, a friend once told him. Responding, he said: Come up to life.
It is a tumor. An irremovable tumor. A nagging vision, guiding him into his self or out of her.
In that cave, she appeared to him as a saint, a bohemian; a warrior, a coward; a ruthless man, and an innocent child. In all her manifestations, she was the truth. As she leaves the cave, she leaves him in a state of bewilderment.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So he keeps weaving, in anticipation of….nothing. That foolish nihilist!
December, 07, 2007 9:39 PM