Engulfment

Man’s greatest weight. — Thoughts emerge in endless multiplicities — like a string without an end — what shall I do? O void of terror, why must you unleash thy self? ‘Because of the impunity that besets you. What sacrifice shall you make to me, so that I may free you at once?’ Silence whispers its name in those men who don’t grasp a rock that fills the fissure of Being; to grasp the rock is to take hold of the parallax — the cure of all voids lies in the weight of the rock.

On a forgotten emotion. — Oh, how I have forgotten the heights of the mountains man can traverse. Oh, how long have I lived on the flattest of plains before I realized the path to the stars laid right in front of me. At the peak of this newfound mountain is the greatest fall I could experience, but it was all worth it for the triumphant yell next to the stars which I so aspired. Long have I laid near the beach wondering how I might ever reach them — and so I dismissed them, nothing more than a faux, a lie which foretells of something that yet remains out of grasp! But as I soon laid my eyes upon the mountain I was reminded of how high one could climb. In my grasp of the mountain — in my embracement of it — I wept, for, long have I forgotten what it felt to be human. And so I leave the peak of the mountaintop, in search of the next, and although the next is in my sight, my impatience overwhelms me. My mind repeats the events constantly, the beauty of the star that looked upon me — moments before it temporarily consumed me — was something I had not witnessed in what felt like a millennium. And so my pains, trudging through the mountain, sobbing as I at once thought it was impossible to reach the peak, were all embodied in this exuberance of light my body had succumbed to. How I yearn for it again, but with this experience, I finally have the knowledge of its possibility. Lastly, I say for the moments that have my mind grasped, how I wish for myself to not forget of these mountains, so that I may never forget the beauty of the stars, a beauty which shows a lack in any language that tries to grasp and tell another of it.

Gleaming light. — I can no longer bear not being myself. It is a hell for me to pretend as I am not, but so it too for me to be as I am. This chaos strikes bolts of lightning within me: losing the grasp of my body as I fall to my knees, sobbing due to what it has dealt to me. But then I look up and see a particular star that blinds me… I can see all the stars in the sky, but this one seems to be something that burns brighter than the others. I return to the mountaintop I have spoken of before. When I reach such a star, I at once, without a thought or judgement, step in: the light pierced and burned what felt to be my heart. Not in the sense of a damaged heart, much rather, it was the feeling of burning that came alongside healing. I still tremble at my knees to this burning, let it forever control me; let it forever motivate me, let it… forever.