Unconditional.

[rewiiired]

Wind pushes me to the edge
just to visit my old friend,
the gaping abyss,

hollow as my heart is doomed to be
as intense as this ache in my gut,
as wild as the adrenaline that floods
through this screaming body,

imprisoned essence bellowing:
"I don't want to need."

Stubborn as I am,
the need is stronger,
sure to kill me if I continue to embrace
this bitter, insane resistance,

this fear of gaining,
for to gain is inevitably to lose again.
I can fool myself no longer.

Nothing is unconditional.

This world is one of transience,
the only constants are change
and the eye of consciousness,
which can choose
to remember and find solace in this

or become blind to fight the futile,
chase after the ever-distant horizon,
ignoring familiar footprints and fossils
as it runs itself dizzy in vicious circles.

And now the bite of transience:
I'm losing my resistance,
tumbling back, so
primitive.

I can't take the gain.
I can't take losing it again.
I can't take me pushing it away.

Yet the want relinquishes.

The abyss stretches wide,
ready to swallow me,
eager for my falling.