I Shall Find a Darker Dream
I shall find a darker dream in which to pine away. I shall by my own indomitable volition discover a new brand of solace that is completely unprecedented in its conciliatory merits. I will ascertain a luxurious and pacific atmosphere in which to bury my terminally wounded frame. I will cocoon my body in silence and let the despair seep out of me, even as poison from a snake bite. The degree of shutteredness will be absolute, the darkness pensive and profound. I will tunnel into the most tenebrous chasms of hell and flee forever, inured to my forsakenness, gladly bereft of the pang of hope which disturbed me so grievously.
I will go. I have the choice. In lieu of salvation proper, I will construct a bunker in which to house my own ineptitude. I will epitomize Adam’s fallen uselessness with total aplomb. I do not belong here in this world bent on exploitative aggression and permanently debased morals. I should dissever myself from this interminable fracas, this devolution into bloodlust, and depart to a soft and clandestine bed, hidden in deep vaults of dissociation and aloofness, burying myself in resolution under stratas of rock and pitch earth, with the worms crawling above me and the daylight regarded with eternal antipathy. Heaven’s blinding gleams are simply too intrusive for my sensitive mind. I’d rather decay in peace.
I shall find new trajectories of thought in which to preoccupy my soul. With my eyes closed, I will speak with the elements and the bedrock in a language of inertness and silence, in imperturbable confabulation, wherein wisdom and hermetic secrets flow to me like an elixir of druidic lore, carried from Pangea by ageless ghosts who service the living in affability and in joy. I will listen as the faint streams of water meander through the peat, finding their way to the cave systems below, where they offer pristine drips in repeated consecration, like a perfect and reiterated act of worship, adding their oblations to the crystal lake below, which houses the dreams of a million fairies and which shimmers in infinite zest, with the stalactites and stalagmites jutting like glistening teeth, and the windless atmosphere like a thing of perfection.
