Objects Have No Meaning

There is really no meaning in a word. The meaning is in the thing and the word is not the thing. And even things don’t really have meaning. It’s our relationship to the things. Actually meaning cannot be found in relationships to things either, but in personal relationships only. There is only emptiness in things and in relationships to things. It is a bottomless pit of regret and abandonment that never ceases to disappoint. Things disappoint every time.

Digging for Truth

Deep down, I dig to the bottom.
What lies in this hidden depth?
Fear, grief, rage, confusion…
It rocks my reason, clouds my vision.

But what is the answer?
Where is the road out of this darkened wood?
Is it faith? Trust? Logic? Courage? Peace?
Is Love the answer? Where will it take me?

Right now everything is scary.
I feel caught in a cage,
In chains, buried deep underneath
Miles of ground, isolated by time,

Place, and no relationships that bring
Relief, connection, revelation, peace.
Anxiety rules the roost, it conquers all.
Fear is my father, abandonment is my mother.

Rage is my brother, grief is my sister.
This is my family. My friends are shadows,
Ghosts in a mist that only evaporate in my
Hands when I reach out to hold their hands.

I am lost in my mirrors, erroring in my program,
Nothing makes sense, nothing works.
What is the truth? Who is my savior?
From where does my salvation come?