Lithograph by M.C. Escher

 

 

 

For every moment we share with someone on our surface, we live a thousand thoughts inside.  Every memory starts us down a path.  We never know where it will go, only where it begins.  Just as we feel closure on one memory, another one appears.  We must go where we are led and will continue on this endless maze until something in our outside world draws us back to the surface.

 

We attempt to share with others the innermost parts of ourselves by writing stories and singing songs, but none of it is any more than the tiny grains of dirt that rest atop an anthill.  We expose just enough as to make ourselves seen, never really desiring anyone to come inside.

 

On the outside, we must share space with others who must also share with us.  We are stars in our own plays, yet only supporting actors for those that play out around us.  We are never as important as think-we never truly believe that we are.

 

Beneath the surface, we do not choose who we will portray because everything we have ever been or felt is there.  We rise as we fall and slump under the agony of defeat even as we hold our heads high and take the next step in confidence.  We wonder as we know and pass ourselves at dead ends even as we rejoice in new beginnings.  Eventually, all run together, yet they never become one.