(Not) Knowing
He cannot smile, yet he cannot cry. He cannot explode, yet no containment. He puts a smiley persona, yet… is he?
I wonder why. What’s wrong with him?
“How are you?” —— “I’m good…”
I know there is continuation. Continuation of context. Context of solitude. Solitude in soul searching. Searching for contentment. Contentment of joy.
Tik.. tok.. tik.. Tok..
As his sense of hearing intensifies in silence. The sound of virtual rain, the voices of floating heads. Soon realization comes, that happiness is not acceptance, nor it is acknowledgement, or saving wealth.
It is when he let go & look up to the light-polluted city sky at midnight and still see brighter stars..
Realizing that he is a miniscule dot, in an unimaginable sized universe. That his worry is insignificant.
He is still alive… he is allowed to still live, where he can still stand up when he falls down.
How an inhale is automatic, and an exhale is one of relief, not a gasp. I just want to smack his head, or pinch his elbow, and shout, “Wake up! Look around you!”
If only… he can listen. If only… he sees it all.
Then content he will be.
