What do I want?
I yearn for something.
But what?
It feels like a thread.
Sewing thread?
Like the thread of something magnificent.
I cannot even see the thread.
I cannot be sure its there.
I yearn to grasp this thread.
Though I cannot see it or confirm it.
Like a lifeline from an airship.
You can take hold if you wish.
Or not.
It feels nearby, but the further I look,
The further it gets.
I yearn for a feeling.
I yearn for a state of being.
I yearn.
It's there, just out of reach.
Whispering past, Fluttering on.
Like water flowing over a stone.
What is it?
Can I measure it?
Can I break it apart?
Can I decompose it into its fundamental state?
What if I did?
Then what?
Would I have to put it together again?
What If I couldn't?
What would happen then?
Would people be able to see what I was doing?
Would they mock it?
Would it be praised?
Would they mock me?
I wouldn't know how to handle praise.
Could it be made better?
Could it be tempered?
Could it be forged?
Could it do harm?
Would it do good?
Might it unify?
Might it divide?
Might it conquer?
Might it submit?
It might.
Would it be sold?
Would it be bought?
What if it were everywhere?
What then?
Could a man who buys sand live in a desert?
He might.
He might prefer water instead.
What if it were nowhere?
What if there is no thread?
What if my yearning is for something else?
What if it cannot be achieved?
What if it is never found?
What if?
Why not?
We are given but one life.
Someone must find it.
Why is it the harder one looks, the less one sees?
Are we one universe or many?
Are not the stars contained?
Are we not all part of the same thing?
Maybe.
I yearn for something.
But what?
It feels like a thread.
Sewing thread?
Like the thread of something magnificent.
I cannot even see the thread.
I cannot be sure its there.
I yearn to grasp this thread.
Though I cannot see it or confirm it.
Like a lifeline from an airship.
You can take hold if you wish.
Or not.
It feels nearby, but the further I look,
The further it gets.
I yearn for a feeling.
I yearn for a state of being.
I yearn.
It's there, just out of reach.
Whispering past, Fluttering on.
Like water flowing over a stone.
What is it?
Can I measure it?
Can I break it apart?
Can I decompose it into its fundamental state?
What if I did?
Then what?
Would I have to put it together again?
What If I couldn't?
What would happen then?
Would people be able to see what I was doing?
Would they mock it?
Would it be praised?
Would they mock me?
I wouldn't know how to handle praise.
Could it be made better?
Could it be tempered?
Could it be forged?
Could it do harm?
Would it do good?
Might it unify?
Might it divide?
Might it conquer?
Might it submit?
It might.
Would it be sold?
Would it be bought?
What if it were everywhere?
What then?
Could a man who buys sand live in a desert?
He might.
He might prefer water instead.
What if it were nowhere?
What if there is no thread?
What if my yearning is for something else?
What if it cannot be achieved?
What if it is never found?
What if?
Why not?
We are given but one life.
Someone must find it.
Why is it the harder one looks, the less one sees?
Are we one universe or many?
Are not the stars contained?
Are we not all part of the same thing?
Maybe.
