Thursday, December 29, 2005

The Lonely Isle

"..folly is a human instinct,
we follow it to our destruction,
and dance in the flames of our foolishness..

Dear lonely isle,

The world spins on it's axis so we have daylight before passing into shadow. It's the same all around the world. While some places get more daylight than others and some less, and others get severe winters where the sun doesn't shine at all.
But still come spring, the sun will shine, even if it's for a short while.
Just as the earth cannot escape the sun's light, we humans cannot escape the bonds that tie us all.
No man is an island.
Someone said this before. I cannot remember who, but that's not the point.
But is it possible for a man to be an island?
To have no contact with the world, to break all ties and sever all bonds with others.
I have recently lost a friend. And though he be a friend i wasn't very close to, or not as close as wished i was, still I felt his loss.
One can only imagine the devastation felt by those who knew him better.
The dead have it easy. It's the living who suffer.
So then maybe we should all be islands. To be alone, for every heart we touch will break at our demise. To be a hermit, so that none may mourn our death. To be closed from the world, so that we do not feel the pain of losing someone dear.
But to be alone is something we weren't meant to be. We weren't made that way.
That is why we constantly reach out for others. Again and again. Even if we are pushed away.
Humans strive for companionship, even if it comes back to bite us in the ass. We all need company, be it man, animal, creature or imagination.
We hurt when we something dear is taken from us, yet still we form attachments, ties that link our soul to others. And everytime you love, you grant someone the power to hurt you. You give a piece of your heart away and watch it jump from your chest, leaving you. Off to see the wide wide world.
I've said it before, I haven't had a full heart in a long time.
It's bruised battered, filled with cracks and holes. Yet it still stands. For if its the one thing we were made that's right, we were built to last and to endure. Pain is pain. And pain will pass. Even if it lasts forever, pain ebbs, like the tides of the sea. They rise and they fall. And each fresh wave is a new wound.
So humans were made to suffer. And because we were, we search for something beyond the suffering. Some meaning to an endless task, a repeating cycle of suffering.
We search for happiness.
But happiness is a trivial thing. It can be taken away.
That which can make you, will also break you.
Why do we give ourselves more reason to suffer?
Maybe because we need a reason. To feel pain is to know we live. That we're alive. That we feel.
To be happy is to be alive. To have lived.
We live to experience today, and to expect a tomorrow.
Someone told me that.
So we live for the now. Whatever troubles tomorrow may bring is for tomorrow.

Right now, here, today,
we are alive.
And in the end, is all that matters.

love, joyce.