In the light of Being

The mere idea of being is tiresome. Breathing per se is exhausting. Thinking breaks me down even further. I've never been fond of realisations, of knowing who I am or where I am going. Knowledge is an addiction and a painful one. Loving is a form of knowing. Becoming aware of how much we care and how much we can give to someone or something. It's the most selfish of all feelings. We love to be loved back. We love to feel happy. And so we build our existence attached to this idea of fragile joy, a naive certainty that it will never fade away. We live the day never expecting the sunset and when the sun does set we get lost in the dark forgetful that the most intense of the lights resides within us. The sun is no more than a wanderer among stars, let your inner light guide your own way.

Tomás Roda