Dust
I am dancing between what my senses give me to interpret and what guides me through my sub conscience. I thought I was making the decisions, but they are already made for me. If I stand back the show runs itself. I only think I’m a part of the process, but I am just a speck of dust in this huge galaxy of existence that began, before it began, before it began.
I want to explore this beautifully terrifying gray machine, but every time I suit up, I stand there, not knowing where to go. I know, I’m already there, but that doesn’t help. Where is there? I am standing at the entrance without a ticket. I once thought I was not built for this life. All the swirling and dealings of those around me, those who somehow knew what to do…now I bow to my own insecurity. My lack of knowing is my savior, my curiosity, my movement forward.
The most beautiful moments are those that call me further in. A singular search party made of multiple people who are all me. The splintered off version of myself has been elected to exist on the edge, consciously aware of being completely unaware.
Eventually it collapses into itself and returns to its original form, or new form. It is what I make it, which was made a very long time ago.
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