The Strings of Solitude

One of the greatest opponents in combat is the one with the power of non-existence. A slithery connection to the empty space, with a pull that you can’t resist.

This warrior of solitude doesn’t win by force or strategy. It overcomes through coercion.

It dangles its thread like a lifeline to desire and taunts you with the openness of shifting identities. Drawing you towards the fleetingness of more with less. It calls you to wander circles around yourself until you’re caught in a web of loneliness.
If you engage with it, you threaten being swept up like a kite. Destined to float in a never-ending current towards the discovery of something that will never exist in one state. And if you ignore it, you threaten being tied to the Earth with thick roots that strap down your heart. Choking on the dirt of security.
So I sink into the stalemate. Either with the wisdom of a veteran or the foolishness of a procrastinator. Longing to play the strings of my soul’s symphony but choosing to play the game of never hide and seldom seek.

And with these somber thoughts to keep me warm in the trenches, I wonder how you disengage without tripping into ignorance.

I think the key lies in fluidity. Anything slight enough to coerce can be coerced itself.

So maybe the battle doesn’t end by cutting the string, but simply by convincing the noose that it’s a lasso.


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