The Steps I Gotta Take
Show me how to wade into that endless sea. To become more than I am, to make you more than you are.
Besides occupational reservations, I’m complete. I can do what I will myself to do. The Grecian man trodding down streets of the mind, whose every detail remains a photograph. Knowing the outlines of corridors and alleyways, there is little need to explore each. I know what they contain and can delineate these contents to a t.
A god on that street. A child at the oceanfront.
That moving-toward the unknown initiates anxiety, fear. A primal arousal: the dialectical opposition to sublimity. If we walk there, hand in hand, I’ll not drown, and i’ll comprehend the rapport between these two poles. As a rapport between all things.
I’m complete. But merely a facade. There is no zero-sum game of completion, for their is no eidos. Only Ding. “Man, I swear I’d give the whole thing up for you.”