being empty... :(
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| Tue, 11-25-2003 - 4:32am |
But to find a word buried deep within a dream, painfully static, forever marred by the memory of those living in the light, is not a chance encounter by itself. Per chance it died in an arrogant self-reliance when it was young, crying in the night as it disappeared and there was nothing but a faint memory, or an old piece of paper, to remember it ever existed.
Perhaps, just like me, it is now looking for a way out.
I am always absorbed by such encounters, slowly moving forward in a moment's passing. It is the coming of the night that keeps me so occupied, the moment when I feel the obligation and necessity to tell the dreams I have inside, not because they are my own to give, but because I feel them so completely and so intimately that not doing so would mean the end of my own erratic existence.
Yet I feel empty. Diluted and defeated. I can’t even remember what my soul looks like. Sometimes I see its face. Sometimes I seem to catch a glimpse of its mouth at start of my day, in someone else's smile, on someone else's dream. I become forgetful with the pressing hours, I rest easily on my revelations, moving without a reason or thought through the hallways of my days.
Going from revolution to revelation.
Frank
