Isolation

Isolation

The effects of isolation

In all of it's magical strangeness

Waiting without purpose

But in a state of highest tension

All around is nothing emerging from the void

That external namelessness and formlessness

Which is the very substance

Of our concrete and transient universe

If only to be content to simply exist

To be intensely and absolutely there

Isolation gives everything an absolute

Thing-in-itselfhood

In nature the isolation of an object

Heightens its significance

And endows it like a piece of art

With a symbolic meaning

Which is identical with Being

Something Everything

Which I have looked upon

Now seems to scream of something that is gone

I walk solitary

To me the universe is void of life

Of purpose

Of even hostility

It is one huge, dead, steamroller

Going on in its dead indifference

Having no hope

No fear

Yet I live in a continual pining fear

Apprehensive of everything

Waiting to be devoured

By what?

Myself I suppose

Everything is negatively significant

So that every event is utterly pointless

Every object unreal

Every human being a robot

Going through the motions

As it they had all forgotten they were alive

Never giggling or feeling self conscious

Never praying or pining over absent lovers

Never gazing with envy at another's prosperity

Never flirting or loving or hating

Or you might become

More intensely yourself

Or you might have proper concern

With human relations

With the necessary chores and duties

With feeling compassion or charity

Just systematic SILENCE

Leading to obscure knowledge

Of the right kind of behavior

And the right kind of

Constant, unrestrained alertness

Contemplators hoping to formulate and express

The contents of all of this reduced awareness

Of which we are all the victims and beneficiaries of

Which can never of course be realized

To satisfy the appetite of the soul

~ MsCheeVS