I wait for the sun to rise, but it does not. It has not for weeks and I wonder if I am to remain in the dark forever.
What does sunlight feel like again? I have forgotten the heat of midday while my heart tumbles in the turbulence of suspension.
The Master speaks to me in dreams. In waking, I lament at the distance between him and I. But he smiles as I dream and whispers, "those who are present are not waiting."
Only those preoccupied with yesterday and tomorrow are the fools that wait.
Am I a madman of the past, reaching far into memory to fill myself with nostalgia or regret? Or am I the clever halfwit who passes the gift of now for one of fantasy and pretend?
Neither! I say, I am neither.
I am the lover of the Sun who keeps his gaze hidden from me, and reflects only the dark side of light with his consort, the Moon.
She is constant, even in her transitory embrace. Sometimes full, sometimes absent, but consistent in her changing moods.
To be honest, I tire of her waxing and waning for I have always longed for the constancy of light!
But even the sun's changeability is found by each hour of the day, casting shadow from west to east in an effort to match the night.
Thus there is no permanence to be found anywhere. All swells and collapses with Time. It is our hearts that remain full and overwhelmed by the madness of Being. In love, in love!
I thank the laws of nature for not permitting stagnation out here. So then I must remove the stagnation in here, my cobwebbed soul awaiting a phantom of permanent security. There is naught! Rise, and face the day!
I will become intimate with the Night inside me.