“Sometimes I’ll have a moment…like where I am and everything is enough…” (My So-Called Life)
I am parallel to the resting universe, aligned in the present moment, inviolate to volition. There is a calm in the contest between capability and completion, an upheaval of the undulating wistful systole, a rhythm of yearning that burns through the pulse of life. There is silence as the heart stops its murmur. Life wilts as eternity is glimpsed in intervals where fragments reach fruition. What completes me in those moments? The dark thoughts slip away. My body no longer becomes a vessel of past and future, the forlorn isle of man torn in his reconciliation of the two plights of time, presently found, improperly bound. I wish to protect this moment, safeguard and shelter it. For I have been reached momentarily after all of the successive attempts to penetrate the thick fog of miry thoughts. There is connection, finally. Living underground has grounded me unreachable, the cracked plates of my composition sliding past but never fitting…until the moment where everything is enough.
THEN…something happens to that moment. Enough crumbles to meagerness, completeness becomes divisive. How does the heart stop itself from breaking up enough? Dreams, passions, and desires will attack, latched on leeches, sucking greedily the perfect interval. I am left dry-mouthed, thirsty, shriveled up entirely. I want more. I want more, starved and beseeching for the ideal. Fantasy has never comprehended reality, but rather obliterated the ability of reposition in truth. Truth integrates and aggregates the whole, brings me into these moments.