The Mothmind Prophecies

Wake up! They said. As if to say what’s wrong is wrong inside my head. From what? To what?

How can we be sure what is real and what is fake? How are we to know what it is to be awake?

Oscar Wilde

Beyond the bedroom i have no interest in power games. Beyond the bedroom i have very little interest in any games. I love to play, but of social interaction, i don’t chase, i won’t play hard to get, i have no interest in controlling, limiting or manipulating you in any way.

Your choice is everything to me; to be chosen. To know absolutely with every freedom available to you, i and the future we could have together is what you want.

If i knew that, i would go to the end of the earth for you. But right now, and even though with every fibre of me i ache to put will into action and even though the constant stream of simulated attempts running through my mind generally all end in success, i can’t. I won’t.

I love you in a way i’ve never loved anyone. I really went all in. Everything i had or was, unreservedly yours. But cards on the table and the option there to be took, but not taken, i could fight, but, all i could hope to gain would be illusory. I could never accept keeping you at the expense of your dreams. I cannot stand in your way. I have to let you go.

I feel i’m stood at the fork between infinities, watching the us of ‘if only’, walking a path i ache for not being able to tread, fading out of sight. Then i remember i need to walk forward too. Glancing back towards the path before me just intime to catch a glimpse of you, yourself dissappearing along the horizon making your own way.

What comes next? I’m curious to know, and all possibility aside, i expect one of two outcomes. There will be something, or there will be nothing. I do not fear death. Socrates tells us a philosopher doesn’t fear death, and we are all philosophers, regardless of Cave inhabiting status. Although, his belief was firm that the soul is bound prisoner to the body until death’s release. But, i’m not so sure. Though i do not find fear in uncertainty. I find fear in my curiosity on the matter, but i think i’m content enough to await my answer patiently.

Something, or nothing. Something could be anything, but it is still something. Something bound from there to here, somehow still between me and you. And nothing, well, i should imagine if that is the case i will be shown the mercy of being denied an opinion on that either way.

Now to think; this question is more of life than death. What if this is all that we have? Each a flicker against the black; our time a blink in the eye of the universe; a single chance to burn so bright, by it we might be noticed; perhaps remembered. Forget living like there’s no tomorrow, with half a hope of waking a different week; Live like there’s nothing next. You could do worse than be proven wrong. Unless, ofcourse, reincarnation be so governed and inclined to recast you a baboon. Red arsed bastards they are.

Taking a moment to entertain a notion that begins with the death of a star and through various miraculous processes, become structures of ever more complexity and function: molecules to cells, to tissues, to organs, to the forms that we take; then, if you’ll pardon my arrogance, I, like you, am not of this world; if only in part.

Now, somwhere along this journey from atomic to hedonic, consciousness presenting itself as mystically as it does, an essence of being; a debatably evident spirit. Though potentially for all it’s wonder, so conceived a soul out of a simple fear that when we die, every thought, emotion felt and every memory is but amongst the dust. That it is at that point, as never was, except for that of the memories amongst those with whose lives yours intertwined, until such time as the last of these threads, to which your faint remnance clung, themselves come to cease.