wallow

Something mysterious and strange hangs in the air tonight. A thick electricity of chaotic potential. At any moment it might erupt in brilliant violence. The moon is new and the world is new. I am weighted with a directionless longing. Because I want nothing, I want to want something. This longing is lodged in my belly, waiting to be turned on its head, shaken loose. I need to be shaken, stirred, my fires stoked, unshackled from the familiar and routine. The city is alive with possibility, seeping forth like gas from volcanic vents, struggling against the density of the whole ocean.

My dreams have become more real than my waking life. My emotions are more fully alive where reason cannot reach them. I linger between contempt and affection, love and hate, hope and despair. I do not know what gnaws at my heart, only that it is unfulfilled, hungering. Unsated, it feeds on itself, growing stronger, all consuming. Anxiety shivers down my spine, anticipating the day when this thing is satisfied, consuming itself with cancerous abandon. My heart is ever broken.

There is no peace in my mind, no respite from this nagging need for the mystery that eludes me. I cannot find what I do not know how to seek. I cannot find what I seek until my searching ceases. And still I sense this enigma beyond my grasp, and find myself pursuing it to all ends in the hope of turning up some clue. Yet, nothing. I am met by a mile high wall, erect and defiant. A plaque on its face reads, "You have not reached a wall. There is no wall where you stand. Go forth." It mocks my futile pursuit of a shadow of a dream. When will the shadow take form?

I send myself to bed hungry, a furnace roaring in my gut and bitterness on my tongue.