touching the veil

The only way to ever feel alive is when you are touching the veil. Otherwise it feels like being in a waking coma. You cut your hair, you meet your friends, you eat your meals and you start to smoke, because it seems the idea of cancer and death is so far away that it really doesn’t matter. And even if it came up right and stared you in the face, you wonder what the difference would be between alive and dead. What are you when you are dead? You don’t breathe, feel, think, love, connect. And you think to yourself, same difference. But then you realise. There is a difference. By the simple fact of wondering if there is a difference, therein lies the difference. But you realise you think you might prefer dead. At least when you are dead you don’t realise you are dead. Being dead alive and knowing it. That’s worse.

And you wonder, you didn’t always feel this way. And its not like anything has changed. No trauma, death, sorrow or pain. Those things make you feel. Alive.

But here you realise, in this robotic death, that the only time you ever feel alive is when you are touching the veil.

The veil of truth. You know you can never, in this life, go through the veil. You will always be on this side of truth. But maybe, maybe just brushing the silk veil will give you something. Truth lies on the other side. It has always been on the other side and you know it always will be on the other side. But you realise, sometimes, if you stretch, reach, force your dead mind to reach for something it knows is good but it doesn’t really want or care, sometimes, if you reach, you don’t even have to grab, you know that would be too much for your poor excuse for a being, that if the fingertips could just brush the waves of the silk veil of truth, you would be jolted. Alive.

Like cutting into your flesh so deeply that the nerve is exposed. And touching, with your finger tip the bare, raw exposed nerve. It is agonising. But you can feel it. And suddenly you are alive. Just the slightest contact and your whole body is writhing with wakefulness.

That’s all. Touching the veil.