We both sat on the table, thinking of something to find someone, Finding? Searching? Looking out for something? No looking in for someone
As it was lost long ago.
There is no calm stream running inside him but a continues Niagara Falls of thought hitting the surface of his inner being. In mist of all problems and worries he forgot who he was and whom he want to be. So while reading the book “siddhartha” I thought creating a fictional character is easy, but knowing the really him is hard.
What is the ultimate goal for any human being? Money? Love? Security? Or being immortal in heart of the world? No its after all finding peace and making peace with your self. Don’t push your self to hard cause pushing and dragging will finally lead you to the edge, at the cliff of your limits, and when you stand there and there is no going back you must jump to the unknown. You know what ends at the jump, a hard surface of truth which break you in to pieces.
So when I was finding secret of him which even hidden to him, lies which he lied to him self, truth which he never faced and a goal which he never set, he end up frustrating, angry, sad, de motivated.
sitting at the table with someone who knows him better then him, we end up without clue where he is, he lost in his own echo and shadow. He end up in his own fantasy and world he create, the world of dreams and nightmare which he inked in paper. He lost in mystery which make up by him. In facade, in mirage, in fairy tale, in battle field
Maybe its time for him to finally awake, reborn, being incarnate, ashes to Phoenix. He who knows everything, he who sees everything, he who feel everything before it happen. Its time to bring him back.its time to fill the ink pot and give him feather and paper to create again.as me and him who sitting at the table searching him in dungeons and dark pit, to the mountain top to ten thousand league under the see, to unknowns galaxy to the light sucking black hole, at a place where tornado mix the volcano, tsunami of sand storm and earth quack of lightning cloud. We are pursuing him at end of horizon. We are, me and my other me, the ME who appreciate my self and beat me to the pulp with criticism are siting at the table finding my self, to one who lost and found, cast away in exile, we are finding him and we never stop, we will keep coming, as we are looking for the one, finding pinu.