They are. The words in my head. They fight me, they fight amongst themselves, they fight the higher power. They are anarchists, plotting a mutiny… destined for a battle that will never end.
It is beautiful that way. And horrible.
Meanings are elusive. I struggle to define the most simplistic things. In reality, I struggle to find simplicity. There are moments that should be shallow. Mere reflections on the surface are all that need be seen. Yet you can find me on my knees, digging through the silt beneath the water while the sand covers my hands… burying my efforts. When I should be underground, laying deep with the earth in my nose and mouth, suffocating me as I taste it… I’m laying on top, soaking up the sun, looking to the sky.
The truth is… answers don’t lay between grains of sand or dirt, or in the space between the molecules, or even in the vibration of light… they stand like solemn sentries guarding the thin line between where light meets skin, where liquid meets solid. That moment of purgatory before your body registers that it has all it needs to be kept alive. When you inhale and the precise amount of oxygen has been brought into your lungs… but hasn’t quite absorbed. Just for a moment, your world stops… and you know.
It is so simple and so complex all at the same time. I can lean either way and no matter what direction my tired bones may lie, it will only be upon a fraction of the bed that comprises the “bigger picture”.
What it comes down to is the dead end. All roads lead to an end… and all lead to infinite possibility. Where you believe you are going all lies within the moment you think it. Every choice can seem like the means to an end… or it can seem like endless trees with infinite branches reaching into an endless sky. I choose to go with the latter as often as I can. Which is rare. When I see a road without an end… I will walk it. I see it… I’m walking it… and with every dead end detour, I still have my eyes set on the endless. Not the agony of the perpetual cycles that we’re all forced to live, but the true infinity that is held only within a true hope. I will never stare at a dead end and think, “I should build my life there.”
If you should be so lucky as to ever find the meaning of the perpetual path, hold tight. I can imagine many a hurdle that will attempt to stray you from such steadfastness, as I am tried daily to wander off into the bleakness. Predictability, stability… those are to be sought only under certain circumstances but NOT in the grand scheme. The real world is volatile, reactive… such is the nature of infinity… why would anyone want to run a straight line from start to finish and never hold the hand of anyone that might show them another way?
I am simply a window… a novice translator. The words are rioting now. But they are fighting for me, in my name. Why? Because they will always have something to say… even if I can’t understand.