I know you see me, on the other side of our oblivion.
Curiosity knows no bounds, and though we put ourselves aside to walk another day without sight, we still wish to know.
Inside the dark, under the covers of your eyes I shift passed your view and you push my image aside answering to the voices you hear full well.
But those ones in your head? Like mine? The sounding echo off the wall between your spirit and mine, that never needed to be built except for preservation of sanity.
Tell me my dear, are you sane now?
Are you content? I know you are. I understand this sanity as one day passes to the next, as normality drives you mad.
It is what you wanted isn’t it?
To be content. To be sane. To be somehow normal and live a normal life.
To be happy.
Are you happy without answering to my voice? Does your heart race as fast as your despair consumes you? Does confusion darken your horizon as deeply as epiphany emblazons your truth? Does passion swell inside your soul as it does inside your garments? Is your sword held at the ready as tightly as your will and lack thereof is held at guard?
The choices we make do not always come with the price tag attached.
I was not strong enough. I could not be what you called me to be.
I am sorry, but also not.
When there is nothing I am happy in a kind of way that does not tear apart my soul and mind.
When there is nothing I can do all the world demands of me to meet the needs of those given to me to care for, as is expected in the way dictated.
When there is nothing I can hide away from the screaming in my head telling me the world is sick to the core and I MUST do my part in healing it. Healing me, them, us.
When there is nothing, I can be nothing, and in that nothing I am exactly that – a being.
Being everything I have to be and nothing of what I cried out for to be for me, for them, for you.
My voice falls silent and I leave the speaking to those who have life left in their bones to grasp hold of truth and live it, curse it, throw it into the abyss of writhing bodies falling over each other in search of gratification and satisfaction within themselves – searching nowhere in nothing for the answer of who they are. They are nothing, like me, numb to the call of the mountain and spring. Waiting for thunder. Waiting for the heavens to open and swallow them into their imagined places. But they sit idly busy not seeking, hearing, nor seeing themselves in the nothing.
The nothing is safe – easy.
No fires scorch, no oceans to drown in. No up nor down, no happy or sad.
Nothing exists in solitude. Nothing exists in isolation from itself.
Nothing is the space that joins the universe to itself.
Nothing was there, before there was everything. Yet you call to me and make of me nothing
all this while as I try to be everything for you, just like you.
You are the everything and I the nothing and so it is true that I am and so are you,
nothing and everything as time moves forwards and backwards.
I am there. Turned out. Turned inside to the places before I was.
Now nothing under you in your everything,
I bow in weakness to be strong in these spaces between gravity,
my ears not waiting for the thunder, my eyes not grasping for the sky to suck me up.
No fire, no ocean, just you – as nothing was before everything came to be.
You are nothing, to me.