The search never ends…

My words hold no meaning to me any more. My actions mean nothing to me. My dedication is my only attribute. There is only one placement for this feature. It lies with the butterfly.

Where has the wisdom gone, and when will it return? Does my heart truly belong to me no longer? Is what I possess now just a construct, an artificial heart in the spiritual and emotional sense? Is this device incapable of recording and projecting real energy? Am I with less of a life now then I had been before?

So many questions that I cannot answer. So many questions that no one can answer. Spectations can be made, and conclusions can be drawn, but they are only dust flung into an endless ocean. Nothing makes it whole.

The songs that used to amplify my state of being now provide nothing more than an aurally pleasing stimulus. I cannot feel the strings of true emotion pulled any more. I don’t feel love, yet I know that I deal it. It resonates within the butterfly. I can translate the feeling of love from her as well, yet cannot apply it, and store it. I cannot feel myself or anything else. There are no longer periods of time my heart bookmarks with scents, sounds, and feelings. The color is gone. The feeling is gone.

I am not depressed. I am happy. I am happy with what I am now because that’s how this new template was designed. The empty brackets within this new self simply do not contain any additional code. There is nothing more than cold steel and empty spaces within this character. I am a hollow man searching for the means to feel again. The butterfly gave me what no other could. She rescued me, she gave me a gift that I cherish more than any other in this world. I rely on her, for she is my future. I love her. This I know. I do not feel this. This does not mean that this love doesn’t exist. I would contradict that to my very end.

More words have flowed into this page that reverberate within none but a shadow that no longer exists, and those who could scry the floor which it lay. I am vague. I am cryptic. A pride? No. The only means with which I have to convey this……idea.

The search never ends…..


2 thoughts on “The search never ends…

  1. Pingback: Endless love of life « My Night Dreams

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