Tension holds us in check, it keeps us from exerting our minds in ways considered intolerable or disillusioned and yet… it still keeps us flickering, as if we could almost gasp in anticipation for some great moment.
Tension has held me by a thimble’s thread lately, as if i was fluttered through winds, winds that hold fleeting grace, a middle ground of floating and ruin, whether I crash or glide is simple boring.
For you see pain holds no meaning to me. It is but an emotive void with a somewhat simplistic nature. It pierces and prunes, and holds your mind in disarray but just as it comes so to does it leave. Left down quiet paths, abandoned and alone. For Pain holds dominion only over itself and while it may cling to that which cannot handle the truth, it is unable to understand that which it is being used by.
Recently I have had snippets of grandeur that waft slovenly through my mind, as if to say, ‘here I am but there’s nothing you can to grasp’ at my thimble, my ever so delicate thimble. So it flutters and dies and cries out in derision, ‘try again oh wanderer we have nothing but time.’
But I feel sad for them, trying to speak from a past time in essence hoping to see the light of words again they have so longed for and have simply been without.
And then one day you release what you hold and cling to, whether it be symbols of phallacy or perhaps even pierces of alluded perhaps even illuded desires that can’t be contained and yet spoken out verbally feels inadequate.
Yet, here I sit reflecting on unconscious reasons between thoughts that have escaped, some happy some awkward and others simple as they are, there. But I find a contentment in that fact. That no matter the circumstances, no matter the temptation, nay desire, of those words of grandeur and there descriptions, they are still there. For as long as they stay so to shall I.
For in them do I find that tiny snippet of fleeting. Fleeting but true. In them do I find