When I awoke this morning, I came across strange things. As I glid silenty and slowly through that place in which I dwell, I became aware of certain things going on that would only happen if my presence was not suspected; indeed, the surity that I could not be present, and at all, was the foundation thereof. I stood stock still in my place, not intending to come across anything, and things were unaware of me. It was not any wanting to see, I didn't mean to be; as if when I had said goodnight last night, and went to sleep, I vanished and was no longer. The world went on, or went back, fell back into a place before me, and I, like in so many dreams, was a ghost in my own life, haunting hallways. Watching you without me.
And as I hovered there I pondered the meaning of things, pondered purpose and fate. Try as one might to do what one wants, there are occasions where one finds that, no matter what measures or miracles are undertook, there is simply no way in, and then, one is rather forced to ponder, what IS my purpose here? Perhaps it is to be a ghost, to hover silently in the margins and liminal spaces, help where I can, smile at the fates of others, dissipate like notes in the air. I went back to my bed, I put on my headphones, feeling rather that I wanted to lose the weight of my form and slide again along the staff of music imagined, and music heard, from a disc that contains a concerto that is current again and again, but with no orchestra or instruments. Only my ears have access and thus discarded from time, from within and without, I ceased to feel and slid along, having given up purpose and found, as it were, my natural form, a wraith, a mist, a presence perhaps sensed in some distant thought and otherwise...not.