Sometimes I just want to get these clear, wonderful objects out of my head and onto the page, but I know they will never be the same. Great as they are at helping me experience the world, my fingers are not very good at communicating. Nor is my voice. Everything tries, and everything struggles.
It’s like these little bits of light that bounce around inside my head, orbiting around the various gravity centers of my brain, all searching for meaning and purpose. But that’s really just the big, corporate monolith Conscience talking. The lights aren’t looking for anything, because they just are. And that’s what I want them to be. The communication conveyor belt is still routed through the corporate underground, and management isn’t always happy with me, so the lights come out a bit fragmented and significantly dimmed.
Sometimes, late at night, or in a warm shower, I think. The beams shine around and illuminate incredible, vast landscapes filled to the nth degree with intricate detail. Vagueries and inconsistent comprehensions flub out onto aural and visual pathways, but they get run over by the cross traffic in the process. I see, hear, and feel so much, but it’s all stuck inside. I can try to share the picture, and a muffled version might escape, but the resulting image will be a whole new panorama.
Iridescent thoughts and indefinable mental creations. Incommunicable. Who knew this gray matter in my head was so enigmatic?
I wish you could see it. I’ll keep practicing. Maybe someday you will.
Maybe someday you will.