my wilderness in simplicity

somewhere in the troposphere there is a gate i want to pass through,
in this place everyone wanders because nothing is familiar,
we become anonymous, not hidden, anonymous, nameless,

imagine pressing your cheek against a mirror with an expectation of what you will see but instead you see someone else,
something totally and completely apart from you,
but somehow distinctly a part of you,
i think this is what love is

two days ago i held a rock in my hand,
(what is a rock?),
i threw it in a pool and checked in the morning to see if someone had picked it up,
i did this because someone would see it and say, ‘why is there a rock in this pool?’ and inevitably pick it up,
we can’t not pick up the rock,

disorder is interesting

i have a tenuous grasp on significance,
a restless illusion of understanding something,
i can create connections,
bridge the gap between memories,
find a familiar path,
i never know if they are real
love is transcendental,
my past is not written,
there is not a book of my exploits,
i hold onto anything that should define me because i say it is my significance,

true love kills pride, desires, reasons — precious reasons,
whoever loses his life should gain it
i am okay with not understanding love,
love is humility, disorder, reality, anonymity, void of self,

i think


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