Enigmatic Abyss

Implicitly imprinted by the womb, we enter an enigmatic abyss, entirely unsure of what we are looking for.

Implicitly imprinted by the womb, we enter an enigmatic abyss, entirely unsure of what we are looking for. We cry. An overwhelming unknown at the root of our anxiety. Our scream, a guttural desire to meet the need and bring order to the chaos. When the need remains unmet, our cry grows more sophisticated. By the time we are an adult, unmet needs become complex fantasies; bullshit narratives that help us bypass the terror of the enigma. By midlife, we vaguely understand the unknowing continues to haunt us. Some allow the fantasy to double down like a tyranny. We buy the car we always wanted, change our lover, or begin a new career. We gaze at the stars even though looking into the abyss discovered other galaxies. Few investigate the darker spaces of their lives. When they do, monstrous forms stare back. Fewer yet reach the event horizon. The point of no return where the black hole sucks them in. No wonder people choose to only look at the stars. Who is ever ready for the terror in the void? Life here gets worse before it gets better. Finding galaxies beyond the stars requires destitution. An impoverishment of everything you’ve got. It’s the only way to find a more radical existence in the abyss between.