Touching Reality

I learn and I think and I write to invoke magic; to transform reality from its immensity into a malleable, manageable handful. I expend effort to untangle knots and to conjure mistakes that add meaning and definition to my reality. When I am lazy, (which is more often than is justified), I call upon pretense and bureaucracy and convention and certainty and Netflix to make reality disappear. When I am discouraged, I summon darkness for additional contrast so I am better able to see a light. When I am actively hopeful, I cast heavy shadows to keep me grounded. When I am angry, I ask sadness and reason to temper that anger so my reality does not morph into something more monstrous. When I am smug or intolerant, I unmask my insolence to find my insignificance cowering in the corner. When I am feeling put upon, I allow Indulgence and passion to run free, within reason. When I am afraid, I plead with discipline to balance inconsequence and impertinence. When I am in agreement, I invite uncertainty to ask questions. When I am sad, I listen. When I am lost I look to Beauty, Truth, and Wisdom to lead me back; though Wisdom is hard to keep up with and Beauty is hard to look at and Truth whispers in my ear that I am still lost.

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