It is mighty offensive, self-inflicted of course, when you realize at times that tangibility wins over. What does one do when there are numberless questions, and you do not want to answer. When you draw a line between the real world and fantasy, and face much hullabaloo about over-sensitivity and bipolarity, neither of which are surreal to you. When you have to be circumspect. Pause between the highs being high and the lows being low. Become aware through being wary. Learn acceptance, learn gratitude. Learn how hard it is to let in acceptance and gratitude. Try and delve in spirituality a bit, find solace in solidarity a bit. Yet be plenty solitary. Find and lose, only to find again. Revel in having the guts to lose again, only to find. Revel some more. In sundry things about yourself. Create a notional to-do list of sorts that had everything to do with what you have never had the time, the space or the peace of mind to do.When you understand and you can see. More rights than wrongs. Learn from what you can feel, under your skin and over. That there is this vague rhythm, perpetuating a sense of calm. A calm called on by a sense of cheer, for trying, for even daring to try. For wanting to, even. For however intangible, there is still progress. Every day, or over long periods of time. When everything matters. How everything is SO relative. How everything is what you want to make of it. How what you want is not what you decide to make of it. So many parallels and so many questions, and you're in the middle. You just know. You're the calm. Perpetuating through all your dimensions. You're creating, you're moulting, you're being. The process is unceasing. You appreciate minimalism all of a sudden, but you are the biggest you have ever been. There is pride, that you avoid and hide, but cannot deny. There is the slightest hint of dismay over not having done more. Not having been more. Still growing, still evolving. But there is no deadline, there is none other. There's you, amidst this aura of murky greys and resonant light, sweeping your eyes across the happenings of your universe. There's some joy there, you can almost feel it whole. Almost enough. You can even look in the mirror now.
Have you made it real?
