I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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Hide And Seek In The Garden Of Eden

the dust was rising in the swelling heat. shrouding and surrounding me like ghosts. i could see the shapes of those whom were left behind; though it was unintentional - the seeing, not leaving. the leaving was one of the most deliberate acts in a career of mistakes. how could i stay? i wasn't what what some expected me to be and what i wanted to be to others was forbidden - top of the list of unwritten, decreed arbitrarily and governed by a tyrant of paradise. though things were not always this way. in fact, occasions such as this were all but unheard of; but moments, gaps in the light that the sun would quickly heal. even the night, that dark enemy of clarity, seemed to offer aid in his interludes. presently he is not so much an enemy of clarity as an accomplice to sorrow, far too familiar for my liking and yet there is not a soul with whom i share more of myself. not a situation to satisfy. strangely, this current predicament, for that it is, does have one positive, as artificial as that is, which is this - it has given me a sense of knowledge, a sense of the world, if you will. now, i know full well that what i do know is all but non-existent in comparison with that which i do not. however, this vague feeling of 'wordliness' fills me with confidence in my ability to see things from a position of perfect passiveness which comes as a great benefit. i am outside of everything. out of reach of consequence and able to look in with something of an air of superiority but without the ego. of course i know that the situation is a false one, hence the lack of ego. if i had more confidence in this knowledge then i could afford the superiority and the ego; those commodities being rather expensive, particularly in the event of their being misused. and given the fact that there are almost an infinite number of wrong ways to do things and usually only one correct way then the chances of success are not worth calculating. i am finding that explanations are being more and more necessary and less and less easier to give. if one more person tells me to 'sieze the day' or to ' follow my heart' one more time then i shall be obliged to kill them on the spot with whatever comes to hand. the one and only time i followed my heart, it took on a mind of it's own, (which in itself was confusing since the head and the heart are so often thought of as opposing forces in our decision m aking processes, hence the thought that one cannot be wise and in love at the same time), and sprinted off ahead of me. it seems needless to relate that things changed irreperably, for the worse obviously, and that that crimson scoundrel has not been seen since! i can only hope that he feels a sincere regret for his rash actions and should an apology be forthcoming then careful thought will be given to his returning to the bosom, as it were. which, oddly enough, is not unlike my current situation. the current state of play however, involves a distinct void of compassion, desire and energy on my part and a lack of coordinates as to his whereabouts. though an educated guesser may place him about three thousand miles away and demanding that i follow him still. why and if: so few words, so many regrets.what cruel trick of fate was it that found me there by the two rivers. daily do i feel my resolve growing stronger. it is both liberating and heartbreaking. i am constantly surrounded by people i neither know nor whose acquaintance i desire to make and those whose i have made are no longer about me in any meaningful way. the same realisation is recurring. so often have i told myself that things can progress as they are, that nobody and nothing is necessary for me to be content. the more i repeat it, the less i believe. it is far from from agreeable when your own happiness is in the hands of another. further, when you cannot even be sure that they know it themselves and you lack the courage to tell them. will i ever again sit on joe's bench? will i ever again wander the canal into the midnight?