Knocking On Doors to Empty Hallways

I had a different entry written.
But…my thoughts and feelings have been all over the place as of late.
I just want the track…I want the hits…the rush…That’ll keep me in place.

I caught myself today.
Gliding over snow covered highways.
Nothing but the chill and cold, slow movement, and thinking.
Silent in the way that winter is.
Calm and chill, almost eerie, and too much insight lying in the wake of every heavy storm.
I pushed myself to blame a different source,
I have become so out of touch with myself, it seems.
Still, even when I am, there’s one last melody that calls to me.

Will it always come back to this?
Try as I may, and as many times as I say I can adjust to it,
I just can’t.
Tell myself that these same moments are just constant blips in time,
it doesn’t work.
Life isn’t made of constants,
unless you count mistakes, but even those change over time.
As the year slowly ages, I come wandering to these same places.
So softly, like a child, like I’m new, and untouched.
Like I’m something white, glowing, delicate and knowing.
I just see this picture where everything makes sense,
but all the sense there is, is abstract…
much like the paintings I can still see in the back of my mind,
like they never left.
Like those moments, and that room, aren’t a thing of the distant past.
All those memories are too vivid and real.
Reality…Surreality….All the bliss just made it seem so watercolor and beyond tangibility….
But it was the most real feeling I could ever hope to find, I’m beginning to believe.

And again.
I knock on this door as if I must have the answer.
Now…but why now?
Maybe there is no answer to be found,
am I knocking on a door that leads to empty halls?
Where the knocks only echo and resound back to me in heartbeats?
Is it only my own heart I’m hearing all this time, reverberating back to me?
Bouncing off of broken walls and crumbling plaster.
All these places I seemed to have built for something that was much larger than it, in my souls eye.
Frames busting under the pressure of nothing but silence and the thump, thump, thumping of my soul. Just rapping, pounding, begging at this home…This place where maybe there is nothing.
Maybe I need there to be something.
Something in me has just never put that part down, the part that just believes…

What is it I expect to find?
I don’t even know any more.
The reality is looking more and more like someone I saw in a dream before I knew it would happen.
And why can I feel that, just like I did the morning I woke from it?
Why is that one of the most real feelings I have?
Why does my soul ache for this companionship and feel this magnetism in times of trial and triumph?