Yearning & Rage, What do we Want? What will make us Happy?
Posted: Sun Apr 30, 2017 1:08 am
Do you all feel that striving, that rage, that desire for something? What is it we want? What is it that we are looking for? What makes us happy and what do we expect will make us happy?
I have this burning inside, and its made up of frantic dreams and hunger, a very deep sort of lust and cry for interest away from boredom and the mundane.
I am thrilled by exhaustion though, and it seems at times that exhaustion may be what is sought, a kind of extinguishing of desire, where finally it can be said that I am sated and had enough, but then again it emerges.
I don't even particularly like or care for or really admire the things I look into or look for. They never directly satisfy me, and in the ways they stimulate me, they seem to be pointing to something else more hidden, like I am trying to find words to say something or gasping simply to breathe.
Its a terrible feeling really, like mourning for something or searching for something I already have which is well alive and not gone, but can not be reached or finalized or completed, ever.
This is like the suffering of an immortal paradox, an eternal engine that never completes a cycle truly.
If home is where the heart is, the wanderer finds nothing but endless wastes in the heart. Striving for Worship through dead idols and ideations. Thirsty with only spit to suffice.
I have this burning inside, and its made up of frantic dreams and hunger, a very deep sort of lust and cry for interest away from boredom and the mundane.
I am thrilled by exhaustion though, and it seems at times that exhaustion may be what is sought, a kind of extinguishing of desire, where finally it can be said that I am sated and had enough, but then again it emerges.
I don't even particularly like or care for or really admire the things I look into or look for. They never directly satisfy me, and in the ways they stimulate me, they seem to be pointing to something else more hidden, like I am trying to find words to say something or gasping simply to breathe.
Its a terrible feeling really, like mourning for something or searching for something I already have which is well alive and not gone, but can not be reached or finalized or completed, ever.
This is like the suffering of an immortal paradox, an eternal engine that never completes a cycle truly.
If home is where the heart is, the wanderer finds nothing but endless wastes in the heart. Striving for Worship through dead idols and ideations. Thirsty with only spit to suffice.