The Pit
Searching, searching, constantly searching for something. What are we searching for? I do not know, for I have always been on the hunt, on the prowl. It is in my nature. I have always remembered it this way. I have never stopped to think, however, what am I hunting? What makes me keep pushing on and moving and searching. The search. I see others searching around me.
What are we searching for?
Everywhere I go, others are searching. In the desolate, in the dry, in the wet, in the abundant, constantly searching.
Scanning my surroundings, digging through the Earth, looking up in the sky, what am I searching for? I think I lost something, maybe. Trying to put it back in its place in me. But what did I lose? What part of me is missing? I cannot remember what I lost, what part of me needs fixing, what part of me needs filling.
I cut myself open and dig around past the meat and the flesh and the fat, but everything is in tact. But that doesn’t feel right. Something is still missing! But what am I missing? I cut and cut and cut deeper just to see if I can find what needs filling, what needs to be put back together, but in the end it’s just my body that needs to be put back together from my desolate efforts.
What am I searching for? Something to fill the thing that I cannot find. I cannot find what I am searching for and I cannot find the thing that needs to be filled. What a pitiful dilemma.
So I walk and walk and walk and walk through the dry and the desolate and the wet and the abundant in search for the thing to fill what I cannot describe.
-A.S.
