Letter to the Blank Page

The fear of you has consumed my existence. I often lie, overwhelmed by the blood that flows through me. My mind is a tomb of locked impressions, periodically released through destruction. I tell myself excuses… That I’m collecting experiences for some glorious tomorrow, which I will soon chronicle. Or, that one can either live or write, and at this moment in time I am living, and as I live, my writing subconsciously evolves. I am no mathematician for I do not believe in derivation. Rather, I choose to realise my maximum. But thus far, I have lacked a method and I assumed that this was a problem, until quite recently. For there need not be a method. A method inspires process, sequence and linearity. Whilst these are all necessary for the the physical world to function, they offer no value to those in pursuit of the unattainable, as they condition us to be dual… If we toss a coin, we automatically assume this duality: the coin will land on either heads or tails, and in that moment, it assumes the persona of heads or tails… But what if we were to witness the event as opposed to engage in it? Suddenly, we experience totality… We are now the coin. And we no longer need to acquire the outcome, namely heads or tails… We simply realise it. I no longer fear you for I have nothing to acquire.

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