I travel into myself; there's no other destination as urgent, as essential. I, a ghost in my own lifetime, too old to fit among the live, naive, the young; too optimistic for the bitter, the old, the others that harvested practicality from all they've lived.
I fit nowhere. I have nothing else but the journey within, the lonely road into myself, like a teenager swimming in a river, diving deeper and deeper into the darkness without ever looking back at the horizon, the misleading thin line of light above; deeper and deeper until a voice out of nowhere reminds me: " This is not your environment, you need air." Air being others of my kind.
But it is the diving I enjoy. It is the diving that disperses bits of truth, moments of me that pop like bubbles in the water surrounding me, in which I recognize my humanity; the revealed moments of me within myself. The diving one must do alone, without love, companionship; love requires the surface, the island, a blanket: basket, fresh fruit, wine. Another. London.The sun.
The sun does nothing but reveal the already seen. Such useless star, the sun. Scorching everything below, as pretentious as an ivy league college professor, pontificating, like that gentleman on PBS who interviewed others and spoke gravely, exuding importance, saying nothing original, regurgitating words of others as if the simple act of understanding merited such arrogance. Such is the sun above.
At night, I temper with things at easy. Not at will. In the dark corners, shadows, and reflections of light, the subconscious flourishes, comes out to space, to air the dense matter inside: mash of memories, disappointments, deep injuries and sorrows. It comes out to be among others, outside of the harsh light that judges, that seem to understand but doesn't. How can it, when the entity itself labors for the reasoning of its own mysterious actions and words?
In the darkness of lonely nights, if one sits still, doesn't interfere, doesn't judge, one can get those lovely bubbles of self recognition. One can meet the true self dormant within.
I guess this is my way of saying that this world has gotten to be overexposed and so, so, so very loud that everyone should just shut the hell up! Myself included.
For a bit. A heartbeat or two until we are so deep within ourselves that we have something to say. About ourselves. Not others.
