“Look . . . I’ve lost hold” – with a remark about the ‘ailment’ of experiencing life

Look . . . I’ve lost hold

my footing has given way

I fall in the tumbling rage

falling further from my comforted home

sinking into the oblivion of life

I can neither see nor feel

my bearings . . . but where can it be?

I’m at a loss

drifting in the cascade of confusion it comes to me

the longing of want, the craving:

       great me this day sweat yearning, making me whole

       there as I drift into the abyss

but my predicament catches up with me . . . my orientation has gone amiss

I find myself revolving head over foot without control

. . . a tumbler in life

images fade, people fade

things . . . objects . . . take on a nothingness lustre

I . . . me . . . have become nothing

oh, the horror of this state

not knowing my life, my way

surely, I have only one friend and companion – my comforter

as I lift up my gaze, it stands so serene, so sure

undaunted, timeless, without hope, without despair

there it stands!

do you not see?

do you not feel?

. . . the longing life . . . embrace me!

         let your caressing fingers surround me

        hold me with firm disposition

. . . the passionate life . . . hold me!

       keep me in your sight

       don’t forget me

There I see the truth

I can feel its fact gripping my throat, choking my voice:  I am speechless!

there in the tumbling nothingness, here without being

my comforter stands pure like an unravelled flower petal

waiting to spill forth its might

yes!  passion of life . . . yearning!

but, yet, my hands, they grasp at nothing

       my eyes, they see nothing

       my senses, they are naught

delighting in the passion, I curse its night

in the blackness, dark, serene

. . . I sit . . . tumbling in the abyss

a great inner outrush cries out:  my voice speaks!

       “curse you, the night of passion!”

       “curse you yearning . . . I tumble endlessly!”

       “curse you, I say!”

but . . . oh . . . I am overwhelmed . . . perplexed

a confusion unravels in my inner depths:

       I  yearn for the yearning that tosses me into darkness

       . . . my great love . . . why do you torment me?

such irony, such confusion, I can neither tell this from that

black has become white and white has become black

oh, but more:  white is neither white, black is neither black

and, still, more:  white and black . . . they’ve ceased to be

nothing is as it is . . . a world of utter confusion!

. . . I tumble into the abyss of life . . . I’ve lost hold in the darkness

and, sitting in the horror of the darkness, I know:  only the yearning is pure

(This unrhymed descriptive reflection is about the dilemma that experiencing the ‘passion for life’ or ‘yearning’ can cause.  This ‘passion’, this ‘yearning’, consists of a thing that is separate in itself, removed from other things.  As a result, experiencing it can “remove” one from the world and the sense of self.  I know, from my own personal experience, and in watching others, that many of us mistake this sense for a feeling of being lost or confused in life.  In other words, we think its a problem, but its not.  In actuality, we are becoming closer to life, embracing it more.  Isn’t it weird how we mistake the experiencing of life as an ailment?)

This entry was posted in Descriptive reflections - non-rhyming descriptive statements, Life in general, Philosophy, Psychology and psychoanalysis and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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