The spiral

Feel­ing that life has stopped beat­ing, that every­thing con­tin­ues to move around you, but not know­ing which direc­tion the wind has cho­sen to go. The mind con­stant­ly comes up against one of its four walls, not per­ceiv­ing how to desire, con­clude or talk. The body, for its part, shows marked signs of fatigue.

What must we do to under­stand our exis­tence ? We want to avoid going in cir­cles, but what results is a more or less square dance with­out ele­gance. Our time seems to be built in this way, ded­i­cat­ed to repeat­ing past ges­tures, errors and wise deeds with­out any con­clu­sion slow­ing down its impuls­es. Naive, we are. We can only be. We are thus trapped in a euphor­ic and bit­ter spi­ral. We want to move for­ward, and we are cer­tain­ly mov­ing for­ward. But at the bend, we take the same path again. We bump into the frac­tal walls of our haz­ardous pos­si­bil­i­ties. And we remain stuck in our ignorance.

We are also like those plan­ets that grav­i­tate around a mov­ing sun. Their dust trails resem­ble DNA that our cells have already quick­ly imi­tat­ed. We move, we go some­where in the direc­tion of the sun in its galaxy, in the same path of those stars that are mov­ing away, fear­ful, from the black and dic­ta­tor center.

My lit­tle trou­ble, my brit­tle anx­i­eties are echoes of big dis­tant bing-bangs and I am some­times afraid of no longer under­stand­ing any­thing about I have humbly start­ed to build, hav­ing the feel­ing of not invent­ing or cre­at­ing any­thing. Every­thing bal­ances out, does­n’t it ? Noth­ing is lost ?

Does the answer reside in silence ? I am not sat­is­fied with think­ing that way. That is why I still stub­born­ly bump into the door of your thoughts. Because I hate being alone in this intox­i­cat­ing and ver­tig­i­nous turmoil.