I forget what it feels like to have a mind that doesn’t betray me, a mind where up is up and down is down. I want to be able to control all these thoughts but they have grown wings. They are them and I am me. What did I expect though? I fed them, nurtured them, pruned and shaped them. How could they not want to be free, to wander, to grow, simply BE. They are king now and their word is law. I am only a vessel. I think therefore I am? No – I am and now my thought too, are. They run, jump, explode – a multitude of tiny bombs, one setting off its neighbour unleashing a kaleidoscopic mosaic of memories, dreams and visions all intertwined by some thread I can’t seem to find.
How can I not love these thoughts though? How can I not indulge in their LIFE? It is not without sacrifice. I must first give in to them, only then can I even begin to try to reign them in. But what is flesh against the forces of a great wind? How can I begin to control them when I am only starting to grasp their power?