Again Tired...

Have you ever felt spread thin, like butter over too much bread, like the last breaths of consumption, like the straining line about to snap? Have you felt trapped in solidity and bounded by mortality, a prisoner of space and time? Have you ever wished you could just multiply yourself, make room for everything and nothing, and be all-encompassing and unbound? Or wished that time was revealed for the impostor that he should be, and nothing was incomplete, nothing was imperfect, nothing was undone? Have you ever prayed that you could rise beyond the singular perception and the serial thought, and transcend humanity? Have you wanted to know the taste of the sun, and the smell of the everlasting dream? Have you imagined consciousness blooming outwards, a lily of light and being, free and infinite? Have you seen your mind enclosing the world and living it, like the waters of the earth? Have you ever needed to recognize the underlying energy of all existence, and perceive it as one whole? To soar as the falcon from the dune, find the desert, and yet perceive every grain of sand that enjoins it? Have you ever wanted all the tones unheard, all the colors unseen, all the sensations and realities, all the lives and histories, all the circumstances and possibilities, the futures that you may never have? And then have you wondered where that want came from, and what it was, and wanted to not want? I feel shackled and inadequate. Yet I revel in that awareness, which pursues the reality and truth of the torture of my ignorance. What does that make of me? What does that make of you?

I cannot begin to express the inadequacy of these words, poor reflections in broken streams of stagnation, of thoughts themselves a haunting of a higher echo poignant and incomprehensible.

And no wonder I am tired.