Islands in the Stream

Oh how self-indulgent I’ve been, picking at the shabby threads of my life. Unraveling everything I’ve tried to build. Godless, arrogant, angry - I’ve been intent on destroying myself. I cannot live for myself but I refuse to live for another. The world appears random, chaotic and cruel. How others suffer. And all my little luxuries and beauty seem insignificant and pointless. Small futile gestures thrown into a dark encircling gulf. The crushing mechanisms of power and blind certainty inevitably breaking relentlessly over the defenseless of the world. Defenseless through no fault of their own but merely because of the accident of their birth, the bodies and skin they inhabit. I feel powerless to stop the injustice of it, mired in my own myopic desperation and uncertainty. If only I could open my heart to love, to not be afraid, to trust. If there is any meaning it must be in kindness, it must be in abandoning the stale orbit of ourselves - glowing like isolated little suns in a black universe, ignorant of everyone else and the space we share.