Who am I? That I feel some sense of entitlement.
Like the world was created just for me.
Field and forest. Water and sky.
Resentment at the intrusion of others into my solitude.
What is it? This unknown and unknowable desire.
This forever longing.
A burning ache. An unhealed wound.
Constantly itching, wanting to be scratched and picked at.
When is the moment? That contentment steals upon the soul.
Calming the restless spirit
The jangling nerves. The malaise of the mind.
The constant longing for a peaceful surcease on the path to oblivion.
Where is nirvana? The acquiescence to inevitability.
The acceptance of futility.
Aspirations dimmed. Dreams buried.
A lone bit of flotsam in the homogenous soup of mankind
.
Why must it be like this? A strange lack of fulfillment
A sensation of being cheated.
Thwarted by time. Senses stifled.
Thoughts of the mundane crowding out the sublime.
2007-02-25
11:33:08
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