And sometimes a fear – fear that this drift of a life cheats the world of something.
Plenty of us live and die, contributing nothing but thousands of toilet flushes and meaningless performances for the benefit of . . . not sure exactly who.
Things done for money that might otherwise not have been done – and would not have mattered anyway.
No net gain for employer or employed.
How to regret absurdity?
Knowing is talent enough. Talent unsquandered.
A light into a dark cave of puppet shows.
Actors with intensity but no real characters underneath.
And the cave light will go out one day.
For the man once a committed actor.
Insanity done over and over again – copying its first instance.
Hiking trails of outside symbols and interior thought.
Placing finger shadows on the wall of the world and loving that as sufficient.
A how-to guide for losing minds.
Simple rejection of the games being played – the roles cast and the scripts provided – and the agreements made.
Wandering into truths where and how they are.
Moss on tree sides.
Whistling past graveyards.
Laughing at the nonsense of hidden animals.
Seeing a creek’s water one day and its other water the next.
Stars different every morning.
The old witch of a woman jogging the hill.
Energy and light and waves coming off of a glowing street light.
Everything seen in its place.
Everything lost and everything gained.