The Man Who Fell in the Wishing Well

I fell awkwardly. I looked above the beautiful sky and night exchange a dance in a narrower and narrower circle. I saw the particles and the waves of light bouncing off each other. The walls making me fell unique in my descent, towards the darkness of invention, the darkness of creation. I fear you will not be there to join me despite the sky above reminding me of the beautiful things I could have had, I could have seen. Seek me not as I disappear into a world of attempts, failures and bursts of joy. Seek my ideas and what I stand for because I will hear those cries from afar, breaching through the walls of particles and waves, rippling like magma down the tunnel of dreams. Those dreams we have at night, in the dark, in the pitch black of our sense.

I fell down to the infinite, almost close to be the only one there. A singular individual in his infinite being. It is blissful in the solitude of this descent who nobody knows where it will lead to, nobody cares where it exists through space and time. I could see you or miss you forever because in the act of falling I feel the speed increasing, the air brushing my face, the risks multiplying, the ideas blossoming, all in an instant and all forever. Time slips away, out of my body, and flows down this narrow drain of wasted life. Escape is what I look for. For me, for you, for others. A leap away from the world stuck in time, frozen into a linear fashion where the horizon gloomily stares at you, as it devours the sun of all its life, as it waits for you to slow down and stop in pain. Pain to have missed you once and forever. Pain to have missed the chance to jump off. Down the path of faded moons. Down the path of reflected ideas. Down the wishing well. To the bottomless cup of an ocean of dream where nothing stands, nothing lives, nothing dies.

It is blissful to get there, take the journey through infinity, never to leave, never to arrive. For if leaving is dying, why our departures would have to be painful? Why time would bind us on this linear trajectory full of disdain and bitterness. I want to come out of the wishing well at the bottom of it, where I heard the flowers smell of happiness, where the breeze is as light as love, where you and me are one and the same. Where you and my dreams are one and the same. Where I could live and die forever. In one singular moment. In one perfect moment. Down the narrow tunnel of particles and waves. Down the essence of being. Wishing for the stars in the sky to light the way where the dark awaits and the brightness of life whispers words of encouragement.

The Doubles in Search For Answers

If you open a door that is closed, you will find answers that do not give reasons or hope. They will double and multiple the doors on which hold onto. Scared maybe they will open all at once sucking life through them, our dreams, our desires, our fears. And we will search once more keen eyes to remind us of why we open in the first place. And nobody will be there to tell us, to remind us, to comfort us for the choice we made and we will make. There may be people around us but blindness suddenly pervades and deafness too isolates into our world of doors opening and closing, opening and closing...

The little light shines on out of the window or through the keyhole. Our strong belief that an answer is out there mocks us day and night but we keep looking, we fight for the key that never existed, the map that does not take anywhere, seeking mystical treasures that would not enrich us a single bit. For you I do this as you would do for me. Hence, do I make my choice alone or is this an ensemble of fortuitous combined decision? Is the answer the one test to prove myself or the joint pride of a group I cannot really distinguish?

Search for answers, my dear double. Search them for you or for me. We all need to cut back, restrain ourselves, bring it all to down those snappy images, those little speckles of time we peer through to grasp the whole meaning of life, of an emotion. And in the end I will not know you, dear double, when my questions will be answered and my decision made for me by someone else other than us two. You will be nothing, an unknown never understood, a misplaced variable in a cosmos too big to handle, with too many doors, too many windows.

Perhaps those out there, the answers, the decisions, will look back at us in commiseration, or will laugh at us in mockery. It is sad to know, sad to hear, but we may never know and never hear for we are nothing you and me. We are a double zero. We are a double nothing. Figures ticking along without a trace, without pace, without time, without ourselves.