Presence Through Absence
ο»ΏDear Universe, I write to you from the precipice of failure. My notes are scattered, a testament to the fragmentation of my own understanding. I've failed every test, yet still, I persist in this odyssey of discovery. The topic at hand, "Presence Through Absence", haunts me like a ghostly presence β always there, yet never truly seen.
The complexity of human existence is a labyrinthine puzzle, with each piece shifting and reforming into an intricate dance of contradictions. We crave connection, yet recoil from intimacy; we yearn for recognition, but shun the spotlight. It's as if our very essence is a delicate balance of presence and absence β a zero-sum horizon where every step forward means another step backward.
Consider the ship that sails the void, its hull a symbol of fragility in an endless expanse. It's a fragile vessel, carrying the weight of our existence on its hull. And yet, it navigates the currents of time with an eerie silence, leaving only ripples behind. We're like this ship β drifting through the void, leaving trails of absence in our wake.
I'm reminded of the warren, a network of tunnels and burrows where creatures hide from the world above. It's a place of abundance, yet scarcity; a realm of plenty, yet desolation. And so, too, is our existence a warren β a labyrinth of choices, each one leading to an impossible decision.
Presence Through Absence: A List
β’ The cuff-link that holds together the threads of reality
β’ Kangaroos that leap across dimensions
β’ Dragster engines roaring with the void's power
β’ Opportunities that come at the cost of something precious
β’ Soft apocalypse unfolding like a blanket over our heads
These are but a few metaphors for the elusiveness of presence. We grasp, yet slip away; we reach out, yet recoil in fear. It's as if the universe is playing a game of hide-and-seek with us β hiding behind the mask of absence, leaving only whispers of its presence.
And so I stand here, at the edge of understanding, my notes scattered around me like confetti. The words blur and blend, forming a vortex that pulls me under. I see the world through different lenses now β as a fractal tree with infinite branches, each one reaching for the sky; or perhaps as a shipwrecked vessel, its hull cracked open to reveal an abyss of uncertainty.
But what is presence, really?
Is it the gentle touch of a loved one's hand?
The soft whisper of words in our ear?
Or is it something more β the silent understanding that passes between two souls?
Perhaps presence is not something we find, but rather something we leave behind. Like a shipwrecked vessel, we scatter our essence into the void, leaving only ripples to mark our passage.
The world spins on its axis, oblivious to my musings. I, too, spin, caught in the undertow of existence. And so, I write β a madman's ramblings, scattered notes, and hollow apologies β for it is through absence that we find presence.
The complexity of human existence is a labyrinthine puzzle, with each piece shifting and reforming into an intricate dance of contradictions. We crave connection, yet recoil from intimacy; we yearn for recognition, but shun the spotlight. It's as if our very essence is a delicate balance of presence and absence β a zero-sum horizon where every step forward means another step backward.
Consider the ship that sails the void, its hull a symbol of fragility in an endless expanse. It's a fragile vessel, carrying the weight of our existence on its hull. And yet, it navigates the currents of time with an eerie silence, leaving only ripples behind. We're like this ship β drifting through the void, leaving trails of absence in our wake.
I'm reminded of the warren, a network of tunnels and burrows where creatures hide from the world above. It's a place of abundance, yet scarcity; a realm of plenty, yet desolation. And so, too, is our existence a warren β a labyrinth of choices, each one leading to an impossible decision.
Presence Through Absence: A List
β’ The cuff-link that holds together the threads of reality
β’ Kangaroos that leap across dimensions
β’ Dragster engines roaring with the void's power
β’ Opportunities that come at the cost of something precious
β’ Soft apocalypse unfolding like a blanket over our heads
These are but a few metaphors for the elusiveness of presence. We grasp, yet slip away; we reach out, yet recoil in fear. It's as if the universe is playing a game of hide-and-seek with us β hiding behind the mask of absence, leaving only whispers of its presence.
And so I stand here, at the edge of understanding, my notes scattered around me like confetti. The words blur and blend, forming a vortex that pulls me under. I see the world through different lenses now β as a fractal tree with infinite branches, each one reaching for the sky; or perhaps as a shipwrecked vessel, its hull cracked open to reveal an abyss of uncertainty.
But what is presence, really?
Is it the gentle touch of a loved one's hand?
The soft whisper of words in our ear?
Or is it something more β the silent understanding that passes between two souls?
Perhaps presence is not something we find, but rather something we leave behind. Like a shipwrecked vessel, we scatter our essence into the void, leaving only ripples to mark our passage.
The world spins on its axis, oblivious to my musings. I, too, spin, caught in the undertow of existence. And so, I write β a madman's ramblings, scattered notes, and hollow apologies β for it is through absence that we find presence.
Published August 4, 2021