My Immortal Soul.
Everyone is a direct composition of the finite and infinite - the transient and the eternal.
It was all escalating. She watched it grow, nurtured it even. Looking at it, together it formed a scrumptious accumilation of a bit of everything - the frenzied emotions, the drama, and most of all irony. All there. All simulaneously present and ever engulfing. Their smell so refined - so poignant. To inhale, would be to reach an elevated high. To refrain from doing so, would be to breach the nature of existance. Yet, to watch, she is left in anticipation, of when the right moment came.
And so she watched. It was everywhere, and yet nowhere. Very clear, and yet few could ever see it. It presence well defined, yet few could ever feel it. But she felt it - so palpable. So tempting.
She thirsted for it. With all her senses. But it wasn't time yet. So she waited, just watching. Fighting an ever arduous invisible battle of wills: body against soul. This time, the body victorious overcame the soul, as it craved in silence - waiting for the time to strike, and satiate the smoldering thirst.
It engulfed her - wrapped itself so preciously around her, almost teasing. The pain now visible, the irritation tangible, and the need over-powering. Yet she fought on, knowing compensation would only strike a lulling harmonic cord of a harp so captivating and her soul would soar in its confinement.
The passer-by's would ask, in evident inquisitiveness, what the matter was. But her answer never satisfied them. And so they'd walk by in pronounced perplexity, failing to see that her ambiguous answer was but the truth. Sometimes even the truth is not fulfilling. But this wasn't one of those times. This time, she spoke it like it should be said. It's not her fault no one took the time to bask in its realness - in its accuracy.
It was the only one she ever had for them: the answer each one privately sough to seek, whether in a moment of acute awareness or not. Little did they know, it was right there.
And then it hit. The blow came not so unexpectedly. It was inevitable. And she knew, it would come. Unlike many, she didn't ignore the signs, no matter how little. She knew the blow left a trail that made a mock of Hensel and Gretel's bread crumbs. One only had to look. It all disintegrated like fission - all the frenzied emotions, the drama and the irony. And it tasted like an earthly peice of heaven. An unatural high. A feast made for royalty couldn't compare. She relished in it, letting her soul sing and overindulge. There was no more pain, no more frustration. They were someplace aeons away - for now anyway. There was only this moment in its glorified stance. And she still relished devouring it all.
Content, she lay back.
Fascinated, I replay it all. It was then that I understood it all. That every emotion, every peice of drama was sustinance. And when found lacking, one creates them. Yet the 'why' was beyond me.
I walked her way and asked: "Why?"
And she replied with the same reply: "I'm feeding my immortal soul."
To be human, there is the mortal body, and the immortal soul. Together, you live, and in death you part.
It was all escalating. She watched it grow, nurtured it even. Looking at it, together it formed a scrumptious accumilation of a bit of everything - the frenzied emotions, the drama, and most of all irony. All there. All simulaneously present and ever engulfing. Their smell so refined - so poignant. To inhale, would be to reach an elevated high. To refrain from doing so, would be to breach the nature of existance. Yet, to watch, she is left in anticipation, of when the right moment came.
And so she watched. It was everywhere, and yet nowhere. Very clear, and yet few could ever see it. It presence well defined, yet few could ever feel it. But she felt it - so palpable. So tempting.
She thirsted for it. With all her senses. But it wasn't time yet. So she waited, just watching. Fighting an ever arduous invisible battle of wills: body against soul. This time, the body victorious overcame the soul, as it craved in silence - waiting for the time to strike, and satiate the smoldering thirst.
It engulfed her - wrapped itself so preciously around her, almost teasing. The pain now visible, the irritation tangible, and the need over-powering. Yet she fought on, knowing compensation would only strike a lulling harmonic cord of a harp so captivating and her soul would soar in its confinement.
The passer-by's would ask, in evident inquisitiveness, what the matter was. But her answer never satisfied them. And so they'd walk by in pronounced perplexity, failing to see that her ambiguous answer was but the truth. Sometimes even the truth is not fulfilling. But this wasn't one of those times. This time, she spoke it like it should be said. It's not her fault no one took the time to bask in its realness - in its accuracy.
It was the only one she ever had for them: the answer each one privately sough to seek, whether in a moment of acute awareness or not. Little did they know, it was right there.
And then it hit. The blow came not so unexpectedly. It was inevitable. And she knew, it would come. Unlike many, she didn't ignore the signs, no matter how little. She knew the blow left a trail that made a mock of Hensel and Gretel's bread crumbs. One only had to look. It all disintegrated like fission - all the frenzied emotions, the drama and the irony. And it tasted like an earthly peice of heaven. An unatural high. A feast made for royalty couldn't compare. She relished in it, letting her soul sing and overindulge. There was no more pain, no more frustration. They were someplace aeons away - for now anyway. There was only this moment in its glorified stance. And she still relished devouring it all.
Content, she lay back.
Fascinated, I replay it all. It was then that I understood it all. That every emotion, every peice of drama was sustinance. And when found lacking, one creates them. Yet the 'why' was beyond me.
I walked her way and asked: "Why?"
And she replied with the same reply: "I'm feeding my immortal soul."
