Silverfish

In the Meadow with Flowers

What is self-transcendence?

I've pondered this terrible query for most of my life.

Often I will find myself alone in the wilderness, needing some kind of definite answer from her. 

It smells like wet cedar and earth as I walk along this trail. I am surrounded by the soft dreams of ivy and broken limbs, scattered about my path is if they're trying to stop me. But in this moment I must persist on, and take my terrible doubt with me until I've reached it.

That painted field, that meadow of flowers that steals each anguished breathe of mine. It almost hurts how beautiful it is. I realize I am in love with the world and everything it has made. I know it is not for me but I pretend it is; imaginative reassurance tending to compensate for these very real deficiencies. 

To stumble upon so many solutions all at once begins to get overwhelming, followed by an ironic wave of anger, washing over myself suddenly in darkness. 

This anger causes me to isolate my physical being from others alike as I melt away into the meadow. 

And these feelings betray me quickly with such vibrance, I want to stay here forever.