From a Notebook Lost: The Same and The Other 43

by mudrhetoric

Overwhelmed am I by my woe and sorrow and sadness. In constant pain and grief, I mourn the day I was brought into an existence and give an essence. I groan and gasp and sigh for I know and know not. I grasp and cling to something, to a nothing. To a void, to an emptiness, to a form which be higher and over me. As I was traversing from place to place i happened upon a graveyard which contained many large monuments, mausoleums, and tombstones. I walked slowly absorbing the atmosphere, taking in deep breaths, and letting it fill my lungs, then exhaling that same breath from me trying to gain all i can from that one last lingering breath. I felt and read each marker as I net along the path of my choosing (if we can make a choice) hoping to feel as they felt, to know and know not as they know and know not, to be as they were and will be, to become. Perhaps to be as they are and will be I know and know not. But as I was walking I cam to a spot that was barren and desolate and grass nor weeds grow there. As I gazed upon this spot I glanced upon a rock which has an inscription on it, and it was, “WERE”, and underneath that was my name and I sat and stood and pondered this word and what it could and could not mean. I know not and know and know and know not. What could I do or have done where one word describes my entire existence and the essence thereof is implied. For each existence must have an essence and each essence an existence. How can all be put into one word? How can nothing be put into one word? Then it came upon me, and suddenly it overtook me and shook me to my bones and made me feel pain throughout my entire body. I am(be), I were(was), I will be(will be). Now that I be(am) no longer, I were(was), and have not yet become will be(will be). Instead of giving me acclaim and accolades for mine achievements and thoughts. They gave me a fitting end, “WERE”. A statement that contains all existence (as we know it) all essence (as we know it), all (as we know it) and nothing (As we know it). But fear and trembling to me! Woe to me! Sorrow, grief, mourning to me! How can I? Who am I? What am I? How will I live to this? Can I live to this? A word, that is, was, and will be. A word that is an event, an end all to be all. The apex, echelon of what I attain to be, even as I am, I were not, as I were, I will be not, as I will be, I am not, and so on and so forth it goes in the circle of the same. Again trapped am I, even in death, by this haunting specter which seeks me not, but yet still haunts me so. If not death be an end to same, then I declare and should what is then? How am I to become other? If not death be an end to same, where is the end to same?