Kafka

I didn't become a lawyer because of Kafka. If Kafka did what he did while wasting half his time on a profession that he was, at best, indifferent to, what would become of me?

Yet time erodes all dreams. It reveals to men the terribly mundane details of their demise. The passionate cries of youth invariably wane and we too, like the man from the country awaiting admittance to the Law, will mumble to ourselves in later years.

Yet, I'm not yet ready to sit on my stool and mumble to myself. I'm still too bellicose, too obstinate...I am still too foolish. I lack the good sense to surrender.

Perhaps that was why Kafka left instructions to Max Brod to set fire to his work. He thought he was just mumbling to himself.

Av is ion

I can see the dark sky below. I can see verdant ground high above my descent. Am I plunging or am I on the rise? I sense but cannot see. I hear sounds but cannot understand them. I smell death.

I'm exhausted by my slow surrender. Perhaps if I resisted I wouldn't feel this tired. Perhaps if I don't open my eyes I'll be okay. Perhaps she's waiting for me behind my closed eyes, waiting in the illumined corners of a broken heart. Perhaps then I can say those things I neglected to say. Perhaps then I can give her a pelican made of silver...

I surrendered too easily...And now I'm left with one regret...to let her forget me...

Void

I peered over and there was no sign of her. I peered over and I saw a void. I don't know. What now? Panic gripped me. She was gone.

She passed me by.

It's difficult to imagine things will get better. My thoughts are encumbered with idyllic recollections of her, of what might've been, of encounters and nights that never will be.

She passed me by.

I still see, under heavy eyelids sometimes, the prelapsarian moment before her eyes met mine. I still remember that all beauty in the eons before that moment paled to a single instant. I was in the presence of beauty personified. But like all beauty left to the unsure hand of man, it became profane and routine. A dormant mind wanders much like a promiscious eye. And I let this beauty pass me by.

It's too late. It's too late to regret. It's too late to hope for redemption. Sometimes we're condemned without any further recourse. This is my condition now; condemned to be chained to impossible yearnings, condemned to see again and again those lumiscent blue eyes without the slightest hope of ever staring deeply into them.

She passed me by and I'm left in a void.

Thunderous…that’s what silence must sound to the gods…as if some daemonic wolf dressed in white pantomimed a primal cry for help…What if mortal supplications were given without word, without sound? What if their offerings were done without noise or fanfare? What if their prayers had nary a lyric or verse? What if all that lay between man and the sky above was endless pure silence?

Wonder

I wonder sometimes...

how different things could be...
if I was not the plaything...
of time.

I shall be expired one day
And I shall look back
with regretful eyes...

I wonder sometimes...

An image occupies my most intimate thoughts. In the shadow of fading light lies a vast body of water. In this boundless water resides every imaginable colour; they swirl and dance until there exist no distinctions, no possible differentiation between where one begins and another ends.

These deep waters also contains qualities: courage and cowardice, genius and stupidity. Cowardice and stupidity can be found on the surface, stopped by a glance, while genius and courage are in the depths. Dive...dive...dive...get down low into the dark obscured depths...

A rudderless ship wanders the surface...only the diver can know what wonders await in the deep.

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An object of inward focus. The strength of the human mind resides in this uncanny ability for focus. It is of little consequence that the objects of our focus yield no certainty or absolutes...The matter is one about depth and profound persistence...the diver may never attain the pearls she seek. It is the dive, not its yield, that emboldens her soul.