The Other Side of Life

How tired I am of this lonely life that is eating away at my time and mind. But I find comfort in knowing that there is peace on the other side of life. My life. Not that I am anxious to get there, nor do I think that it is a better place. And peace comes with fear because this is the only existence I know, but. Loneliness is in my eyes and isolation is how I spend my time even when people are around me. Waiting for the dreaded end to come that I hope will be a new beginning of what I have no knowledge of, and no delusions of a utopian paradise on the other side of life. My life.

I look and I see the happiness and the fulfillment that I have always sought that is ever so far away from me. Living in the wonderous joy of my imagination yet shrouded in the mist of reality is she to come, and she who is, and she who will never be. For me. Dreams of her are like drinking water without substance and eating foods without nourishments because she is beyond touch, and the sound of her voice is that which I create and have never heard. Hidden within the crevices of emptiness by day and restlessness by night she resides as a filler keeping the breath of despair from becoming overwhelming. In my life.

I can only assume that on the other side of life there is neither day nor night. I assume this because I do not know any better and when the moment comes, I will probably know even less. Knowing and experiencing nothing at all on the other side of life, not even the peace I seek because peace is a living experience. Complaining is not self-pity as I deserve my present state because of the things that I have said and done to others. In my life. Mercy is given to the undeserving but even mercy comes with just penalties even if those penalties are not adequate to repay for wrongs committed. To others.

I wash myself with her consciousness because I know that she exists somewhere. Not near and not far from me she lives and makes me aware of her through dreams and fantasies. I am touched, I am brushed by her and for an infinite amount of time that can be measured within a moment, loneliness of life is dispelled from me. I am awake to life. I smile. She is only a phantasmic figure conjured by a lonely imagination. An imagination that makes the nonexistent real. Which she is. As real as flowers in a looking glass. As real as certified realized. As genuine as here and as solid as now. She lives.

On the other side of life resides never-before. In the never-before, loneliness is no more, and dreams are gone. If she awaits me there, I will never know. And yet I will be with her. How, I do not know because I have not existed in the never-before before. She cannot call to me, and she cannot awaken me in the never-before, but I know without knowing that she will be there with me. Call it feeling if you want, and never degrade it to hope, because she is not, and magnificently she is. In my mind. In my mind that is both tired and eager to live. In my mind where she gives me companionship in solitude and a kiss before and during sleep.

Therefore, I say that I am tired of loneliness, which is to say that I am tired of the loneliness that I create for myself. A loneliness that I create for myself that I am unwilling to evacuate. Loving her who is and adoring she who is not. This is my life which I deserve for the wrong things I have said and done to others in my life. Have done.