Sunday, February 26, 2006

P.S.

What can we do?

Distractions. Detours. Details. Pernicious amusements of idle minds. Idle spirits, bodies, languishing in the dailiness of living.

Wallowing.

There is so much to do. Sinks to scrub. Bills to pay. Sick to care for. Floors to sweep. Miracles to perform.
Trees need trimming. Planting, hunting, gathering. News to digest and discard.

A tyranny of events.

So hermitage calls. But the silence of the void is not silence. The peace of nothingness is not peace.
In the world, not of the world. But still in the world.

I want everything, and don't want to know. Because hunger begets hunger. Truest wanting doesn't seek fulfillment--only to sustain itself. Desire can only really want itself. Satisfaction is the end of it. It shuns fulfillment in the name of self preservation.
A thousand philosophers stand serene and testify together: Eliminate desire. The world's chaos is Dracula. It can't get beyond your doorstep without your invitation. Not even Peace can come by the wanting of it.
Just be, they say.

Fine.

But I want you.

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