I’m here but I am not. I have so much and nothing. Void of much want or desire- in some existential existence hard to articulate.
If I were to die today, I’d feel that my work here is done. Perhaps some excitement of the unknown would elevate my soul to some higher height.
Knowing in my selfishness that I can not control the pain of others in loss. I have only had the experience of attempting to mitigate my own pain or sorrow while living.
I haven’t been the best at it. Far from perfect, in fact. To this day it is hard for me to emotionally navigate living. I can talk about it, write about it, paint about it, and score a personally chaotic symphony with how my synapses react- it will never be enough.
The expectations of youth- some desire for fame or notoriety. And it fades away as I acknowledge that every artist is simply a voice of Creation begging to be heard and comprehended- embraced. And anyone who doesn’t consider themselves an artist is missing a recognition that we are attached to what we attach to; and so we silently admire art and the artist because they seem closer to the voice of Creation itself. They are more willing to risk themselves by participating in what could be construed as a pointless endeavor.
I’m ready to give it all away. Set all the paint and canvas on the corner with a free sign. Maybe burn it in a massive fire. I am done.
I feel it in every part of my beingness- I am done. I don’t know what I have left to give.
This isn’t a death threat. Though it is acknowledgement that something in me has died. I no longer know who I am because I have become one with the Void. I’ve spun with the spider for a long time. I once built a beautiful bonfire but the light went away and the embers slowly cooled.
I want nothing but the totality of everything to be better in this world and beyond. I want a break from the spiritual battle- the terrestrial plight.
I want to float, free form, unrestrained by the labels and boxes. I want to shrug off this subpar body and exchange it for the unseen consummations of light. I no longer want to fit in, or conform uncomfortably when I know how lovely it is to unfurl, unfold and expand outward… I do not know this by life alone.
Rise above! Rise like smoke. Rise like steam, or mist- lighter than air alone. Rise with the tide, Rise with the Sun, rise with laughter.
When I rise, nothing will be left to pull me down.