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i can see it. i can see it clealy. i can feel it purly through sensation of understanding. i am what i long to be. it consumes me. it burns my ignorance and pride. This is my roots. Your roots, too. a love from which we all came.
it always fades, though. it always dims into darkness, its shades darken into the shadows. it dies. and i forget. it falls asleep while i lay awake obsessivly trying to remember where it went.
im reaching for it, reaching and reaching for it and it falls away..the vision becomes the light at the end of the tunnel.
this time i surrender, i understand it is me.
i am the dieing, i am the dead. my eyes are closing out the light. my mind is the forgetter. i am the forsaker. its a paradoxical perception: as we feel we are being forsaken, at that same moment, we infact are being the forsaker.
you may ask, of what? what is this we are forsaking?
i answer you, not of my own words, but of the answer, of the answer itself:
we are forsaking our own purpose.

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