Morphic Resonance

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

I am certain that there is no place for me.

Despite whatever costume face I have affixed to my body for the day, I know without looking that there will be no one else that will quite "get" me. Even if there will be, I won't be able to find them. And if I do find them, I won't be able to convey our similitude.

I will be left, mid floor, waving my hands about, nattering on, trying to explain how much we have in common, my relief manifold at having found even the most minuscule of connections in the vast sea of my uneasy neurosis and abject loneliness.

Until, like a bound mime, I am forced to concede that I cannot hope to reveal the secret that I know lay between us, waiting to be unearthed.

So I fade, back into my shadows, back into my hidey hole covered with the dead vines and leaf litter of 40 years, my self imposed privation settling on me like a tattered cloak.

There is nothing for you here.

I am but a shadow dawn. 

0 Baleful Regards:

◄Design by Pocket