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  • Cast into the desert of not-knowing;
    into the hauntingly beautiful
    lunar landscapes of the soul,
    the odd,
    the strange,
    the eerily splendid,
    greet me at the table of the night.

    Like an astronaut leaving Earth and entering the unexplored territories of space,
    I have set off into another realm
    where every step is new ground
    because it is groundless.
    I am creating the path,
    I am the itinerary.
    Every step is the beginning and end.
    It is the journey, these steps,
    and I am It.

    Yet something makes me stop,
    when I have ventured too far to go back
    and not far enough to see my way out.
    I am in a desert remember? There are no landmarks,
    except maybe the stars and I never knew
    my constellations well enough.
    The worm of doubt arises in me,
    the familiar parasite of anxiety
    sucks courage from my heart.
    It stops my march, makes me doubt
    the directionless-ness of this quest.
    I begin to forget why I started and where I was going...
    and then fear sets in, fear replaces
    the resplendent awe that had once so overtaken me
    that once was enough.

    It is no longer enough.

    The sky that used to make me weep in
    the presence of it's mystery
    now scorns me with it's impenetrable blackness
    and I feel suddenly so alone,
    so very alone
    in this dark night.
    Meanwhile the sand storms come
    and erase all my footprints.

    Here I stay for some time,
    lost in the blackness of my being,
    slowly becoming a statue in that vast desert.
    Then I see there are other statues around me,
    of people that have become frozen like I have,
    stuck in doubt and fear.
    Paralyzed by their indecision they
    became entombed in stone,
    never to wander out of the desert again.

    And then something like a memory,
    of what it was like
    to put one foot in front of the other,
    a kinesthetic memory arises
    from the depths
    It is not my will,
    but merely the inner workings of the mechanism
    recognizing itself,
    the same mechanism that started the Cosmos
    that somewhere said
    "Go,
    begin."

    And suddenly I am walking my way out of inertia,
    and I have no idea where I am going
    nor have I gained any special knowledge
    of the constellations.
    Things are still mysterious and strange.
    But I am feeling the biting winds
    against my cheek
    and I am grateful for the sand in my mouth.
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