Pain has an element of blank;
it cannot recollect
When it began, or if there was
A time when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.
...
Another era is coming to an end... and so I write again. It appears that 2009 must have been a good year, as appears 2010. Yet one can never judge a book by its cover; the absence of written evidence does not signify the absence of thoughts, be they fleeting or enduring.
Life seems, for some, to be a neverending dream and for others, a recurring nightmare. And then there are some of us who seem to live it out in a series of shorts. Or perhaps that is the case for everyone, the difference being whether one perceives the breaks and pauses in between the episodes of life that spring upon us, sometimes of our own doing, other times a twist of fate.
I feel the blank so keenly. It appeared suddenly again but I guess it never went away. It follows me around. It's just a matter of whether I perceive it or not. It is always there and when suddenly exposed, the vivid dreams that flooded my mind. All those nights wresting within, in the silence, in the emptiness, in the vast expanse of nothingness where everything is possible yet nothing is real. Or believed to be real. What is real?
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