For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley,
The Cloud, 1820
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Unsatisfied
For the last couple weeks, a lot of the things in my life have been failing to satisfy me. When I'm hungry, I rarely want anything specific to eat, and the food I end up eating doesn't leave me feeling full even if I can no longer eat a single bite without bursting. I'm restless, usually unable to chose an activity to keep me occupied. Therefore I often bury myself in a book, and become unhappy with the time I've spent indoors reading on a nice day. I tend towards apathy when at home, like I'm telling myself going out or doing something productive won't satiate me. I feel... no, I know that there's something, maybe more than one thing, missing from my life.
I know the hole at my side where my love should be is one of them, and I know the lack of a direction in my future is most definitely another. But the trouble is that I don't know if there are more things in my life that are lacking and causing this feeling of unease.
I want to eat something and I don't know what, I want to dance yet I hear no music and something holds me back, I want to be in your arms yet this distance thwarts me. I want to feel your hand on my cheek and the sweet brush of your lips on mine. I want to have a purpose and a direction in my life - somewhere I can head towards.
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