ESSENCE I ask myself:what is the essence of me? Is it in each heartbeat and breath I take,or is it the invisible, the intangible, the something, my soul?They probe every darkened corner of my brain,they navigate the vast map of neurons, synapses, memory. They record every beat of my heart, my voice, my echo. They search for that something, the elusive malfunction,what resonates within the vessel walls, what reverberates,what stops. They use big words to describethe most mundane of things. But within each new word lies not one clue,not one answer to one very important question. To map and study my internal workingsis not an accurate representationof the essence of me. My something. So, I walk through shadows, and watch thelights dance for me in the most mundane places. I live my days always falling, never stilled, never without motion. I collect names of ailments and bury themalong with soured fragments of hope I once carried. I watch as my world gets dimmer and my balance fails me. I wrap myself in promises that snap shut, answers that may never reveal themselves. I hope to find the one thing that I cannot touch: the Truth. Return to Life as a Moving Target page.
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