Restless Things

Infinite

I think a subconscious part of me spends a lot of time being afraid. I often ignore this, or perhaps I fail to notice it, lurking in the recesses of my mind; this fear. Some irrational reaction to the consequences of living. I refuse to acknowledge fear, considering it some illogical weakness when paired with the simplicities of life. Yet life is never truly so simple

There hides in the vastness of life a profound truth about hearts. They are ghosts haunting the cavities of our flesh. They infect our lives and keep us up at night. I pull against my own but it captivates me, enslaving me to it's immortal quest; a hunt for something beyond our understanding, some kind of connection or passionate fire to burn our worlds alive. But I feel lost. My heart tugs at my being; an unseen force manipulating me, and yet I am blind.

I feel myself tinkering on an edge, captivated by some profound precipice. And just beyond this endless drop lies a Great Unknown, like a thick fog blanketing an unfamiliar land. Am I to wander this fog?

This fog, which is so haunted by the ghosts of all our hearts, will consume me.

Perhaps there is a grotesque kind of beauty in simply falling into this unknown. Yet I still feel myself holding onto land, reaching back toward familiar paths, and there is ugliness in that.

In grander retrospection, I realize this Great Unknown is rather insufficient, or perhaps just insignificant. It is one in millions of other unknowns; a speck in infinity. As Earth is in the vastness of heaven, full of so many other worlds. But still Earth clings to its value and beauty, and so may I do the same? Hold onto the significance of my Unknown, pulled blindly by my heart?

For to me, it is infinite.