Ouroboros

“It doesn’t matter if you fail. Are you that arrogant? Just begin.” — Saul, ‘The Golden Notebook’ by Doris Lessing.

I cannot imagine my life beyond this moment. Life in the sense of living, of doing things, the simplest actions. To act without a thought. Reap a good, you will be deemed spontaneous. Harvest an evil, you will be called careless. What is really scaring me now? Where does the actual fear lie? Dormant, it shies from truth – but it is real. It is more real than the steady tides of people that ebb and flow through the city. It is more real than each thick tower of flesh that look sturdier and sturdier as I feel every cell crumble. It is more real than my thoughts of it. I had decided that my mind was my prison. Now it is a distant refuge. That sickly spectral shimmer blanches the dark so I cannot hide. I look through the night but I do not see. I am somewhere but not here.

I suppose it is a sort of death.

I cannot imagine my life beyond this moment. I cannot remember it before this moment. I am unavoidable. I know I have tried. Enduring is eternal, forgiveness is forever. My watch has stopped. The circularity of the seconds, the minutes, the hours. Every one a revolution. Why not now? What to do? Walk at the same pace as all of my selves. Be fluent in my own language. No longer translate myself. Whatever I do, it is by me. Both from me & beside me.

I suppose it is a sort of birth.

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