this is rule one, reality is existing outside
but i cannot see it outside, not as it is, never,
nobody can.
and it will not be called reality, it has no name.
reality is how i see and is reshaped moment for moment,
mind and memory hurling images and impressions
through consciousness, thoughts and dreams
swirling and circling until a mood takes form,
a decision is made on how to live now this
present moment.
i am completely alone in this as everybody
is, there is no exception.
so i sit down, try to meditate and
come out of this restlessness,
out of my mind.
when i cannot find my center i
feel depressed, forced into a maelstrom
and near drowning.
it happens, and i wonder again and
again how i can survive, i am surprised
to see the light in me.
i know everybody feels this in various cycles
of repetition. it is not much use to put it in
words, just one of my personal ways
of processing.
to talk or not to talk can both be as deceptive
as hurtful, truth with humans is complex,
opinions are only a fetish versus bad memories
and fear, a narration means more than a statement,
and though silence is at times hard to bear
it can be as important and meaningful
as pauses in music.
this is it today from me who was tortured
by bad sleep and myself.
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