Dreams, images, feelings what do they all mean? Messages from the beyond? From your highest self? From your not so highest self? These things we wonder, hypothesize, create from yet we do not know and may never know the truth. And maybe we’re not meant to know. These mysteries of the mind, the soul, the spirit. They are the ephemeral essence of us. The intangible that holds all meaning.
I seek the unknown precipice within – the edge of imagination – the edge between brilliance and madness. A tightrope walk across chasms of chaos. Knowledge, imagination, abundance lies here but so too do madness, insanity, delusion. But what is delusion if not imagination made truth? Are those we deem mad truly or are they seeing what we cannot? Seeing what we cannot comprehend therefore are driven mad with. A suffocation of expression they are unable to realize. This is true suffering. To have so much inside yet not be able to express it. A compounding of sorrow upon the soul. And yet here too I can do nothing but be grateful for my freedom to express – the freedom I have given myself, the freedom I have found within myself. To run towards that which I once feared a liberation I would never have known if I had not been afraid and faced the unknown anyway.
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