i cannot not understand the eternal in me. It brings an anxiousness i cannot describe. It breaks all walls of reasonableness, and makes my body tired when I should be moving. It has its own reasons that I cannot accept. It confuses me no end and erases all self assurance. I cannot understand this secret spirit. Playful and commanding and fills me with longing. It empties me until I am full. And all words and images lose meaning. And I become tongue tied and silent as my eyes stare into the blankness. I cannot understand what’s happening to me. I the immanent and I the transcendent. I pass through life like a shadow. yet my manifestation grinds in endless passions. am I real or am I just a fragment of a great imagination? when did i even have the consciousness to understand something I cannot understand?
