"What myriad forms and beauties what precious creations our Sisyphean battle against loneliness has birthed. That mercurial enemy that we find in that same room we lock ourselves into seeking refuge. We find the reality of a life led alone nauseating, vapid: the unwitnessed is no better than the untrue. What good is my triumph without the accolades of those who care? And so we, one, run to be two and begin fighting loneliness now with justification because the other has not met, not seen, not appreciated, not heard, not cared, not freed us from what we are and what we will always be, alone."
Set out for the ruins, but didn't find them. Or didn't recongnize them. It only seemed the same worn path through a new field. Sometimes I feel a force urging me to burn down the forest and watch the new grass come up next Spring. Or mid Winter if you are in California.
Maybe we can never meet each other. Maybe we will never re-unite the egg that Zeus split with a golden hair.
But maybe we can help each other find the gift of fire.