The Turn

I am looking for You.
For most of my life I have felt followed. Men in white lab coats behind one-way glass. Clutching clipboards. Conferring. Or shadowy figures in black raiment obscured by trees off in the distance behind me. Speaking into their cuffs. These ghosts came and went over the years dependent upon my own fitness, I suppose. In reality I have come to understand that I was/am never alone: As much as I was seeking You, you were seeking me. Though all was hidden. The young know not the burdens of beasts, the habits of creatures, only the purity of the soul. The soul at being. Buried is the hidden within, the hidden that waits for me to once again be united with…
Hidden is the way of most people, thought they would be hard pressed to know exactly what it is that lies inside them dormant and lethal. For my brother Kevin it was the demons of addiction he himself stoked and cajoled and so too for my mother with her slow persistent collusion.
It is possible to know what resides within should we allow ourselves this most noble of goals. The tendency, however, might be to find within others the projected evils, and in ourselves only the virtuous. The progression then requires primarily purgation, an emptying for one to have elucidated the ground within upon which a union – beyond words, beyond love and knowing – can be…
The turn isn’t back.
The turn isn’t up.
The turn is inward.
The turn is.
The turn is: I am looking for You, and find myself.

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