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In the shadows
prose [ ]
of the Sun

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [BogdanRaducu ]

2011-01-09  |     | 



I was near a woman I did not loved, leaving behind all that I knew, but I still haven't found what I was looking for. I never thought I would end up here, but here I am trying to deflect the loneliness that destroyed everything I was in the last few years. I was still at the beginning, new life, new ways and I had no idea of what was to come.
I was still unhappy, living in doubt, oh the doubt - the thing that conquered me for all my life, the thing that made me never see anything else than its claws of lies that hold me for so long. So, I went to the man who still was there for me, I never even thought of questioning him, he was the man who had my life in his palms. I stood before that door a few good minutes, but I haven't dared to knock, I felt a disappointment, and although it wasn't true, I left thinking about destiny and my role in the Universe. I found myself on that narrow path through the autumn wind that barely begun. I was sad and disgusted, but I said all I need is to blame my consciousness and bend my walk to get rid of the state that I applied myself somewhat indirectly.
I turned to the familiar, but I could not resist melancholy of the passing times and so I remain in a state of unwanted, but acceptable. All these images shocked me, and the cure for smile was still far away.

It was 5 am, another day came, and I did expect Sun not to sleep and guess my morning feelings of loneliness. Each day became a waiting room, and I never liked to wait. There wasn't any new option to cope with the new day, and the Sun didn't let me to think one. I was alone, but one satisfaction I managed to find in my mind. We wait in vain for the revelations of life, the things that would release us and the right to life, because everything eventually ends with a choice - the way that you deserve to accept it is the way where we will be alone, but incomplete or trying to find the rest of fullness.We will always seek the incomplete, all the time of our lives and we won't find it.

Besides all those trees I passed thousands of times but I never understood their purpose and that's not because I haven't tried, just as there are so many things that matter and don't matter equally - some call it miracle of life, others don't even manage to utter this during their lifetime. How could we assume life when we struck ourselves by the reflection of melancholy, nostalgia and transience and we stop ? We stop because we're cowards, it's in our nature to give up for fear's essence, the sense of complexity.We turn away from everything and we hope for an outside intervention of anyone who would make us move beyond this unjustified fear, to lift us when we fall. Can we ever understand the feeling of isolation when in fact it does not exist at any level ? It's the speculation of life or the feeling of not belonging in an attempt to live.
And all these tests for eternity take us somewhere, the place that we call the end ? But who am I to assume the end, as long as I'm afraid of me, I won't speak of others.

As I said, for the first time I was trying to live and every little insignificant thing excited me, made me feel good about anything. Often in my insomnia nights I went directly out, into one of the places that I liked, solitary places, just to be the first to see the Sun's first rays. I like the Sun, I believe he is the Creator, the one and only as matter of fact. He provided me my first memory, when at the age five, I woke up looking at him and I had no idea what he was, question or response of what it might mean, followed by a wall on which were written things forgotten in time by me and him, and finally one person - the one that never left, not even now.
But these are just upsets - ceaseless thoughts were solidified in memories, in particular a continuing trend - and from here on starts the melancholy of time's irreversibility. We should close them in a vault deep in our consciousness and have it open at the end of life and time, maybe then it will be helpful.
Small times where long nights settled, alone places where naturalness disappears, and becomes the desires and moments, I was blind in one eye so far and now I am cured of the second eye.
But will I be ready to see with both eyes?
Now I began my purposes, the wonderful purposes, those effects preceded by a thought, a reflection wich doesn't last longer than a second. Just like that time when I generated the feeling of attachment just for a moment. Another detail that will return, perhaps in another form - just like the sky wich was cloudy yesterday, today foggy and foggy sky shows that imperfection of the world that nobody can challenge - considering everything from a choice I don't make, almost never.
But let's talk about what's important during a lifetime,that light in the darkness surrounding you in a few seconds and you shout, stabbed with intentional hope, making you get up when you fall, but not to go, in a way it's enough that you get up, because you still have the option to choose which road to go - of the four points the compass shows you have the choice, once you have stepped out of the darkness and into the light.
However, the real problem comes after dusk. How do you cope with the night ? How do you ressist insomnia and all those thoughts that undermine your being ? Night becomes incurable, we're just waiting for the light without being sure of it's healing or when exactly it will come, but we spend our lives like this - don't we expect the light in the moments of anguish and suffering ? We wait it for the simple reason of lacking any other options, from here onwards we become melancholy and we're catched and wrapped by the torture questions and no answers - many going to the extreme - and all from a simple desire of light at the right time for each one of us.So I was and I remain to my belief that Creation doesn't exist, there is only word to word expressing consciousness.
All my memories, well my memories are the gateway to the past, the fact of resignation, that resignation of the moments that pass, the autumn leaves are slowly moving, but somewhat revealing, they're all those moments when we think we deserve the absolute and we find ourselves at the bottom of the abyss or when we wake up in another morning alone and with no hope, but until tonight to find something worth living, then the whole process repeating itself in an arrogance of the reckless.
But all my memories keep all of them here, inside me, giving me this whole new feeling, this overwhelming heat, a sense of safety.
Today I haven't looked in the mirror and I can't really explain why, usually we are afraid to not recognize the face in the mirror or we see something we don't agree or like, or we see something that time dug on our body ; thus I can explain why I never saw myself laughing, this fear justifies it. I became immune to everything that happened to me, including all those who hurt or disappointed me, I became what I am now - the man who goes through places, countries and waters without fear ofunknown, looking for happiness - something that is worth sharing all my feelings, my belief or obsessions. We define ourselves as seekers of happiness as long as the unwavering support that we want immortality and agree to share it with someone, the element that completes us; that's the true reason we all live.

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