Creating new hungers, ...new thirsts, that must be fed and quenched.
For a mind's emptiness longs to be filled with something.....
And though forever filled it forever yearns in an endless paradox of emptiness.
And so it becomes that we must be fed from the human menu of insatiability.
Often what we have been given ...or fed....becomes a right, and not a desire.
......Desire. ....the mind's own witless creation.
A stream that must be swum across, so that we may rest on one desirable rock...and another....and then another.....the climactic opposite shore sometimes coming into fair view,... and then fading away in the fog. A fog becoming so dense at times .... obscuring the next rock.
And then we leap...or swim...or wade through murky waters to each new steadying rock.
When the fog of the obscure unknown finally lifts, we find that winter has overtaken the landscape....and our desires turn back to rocks already leaped upon.
The bottomless pit and pain of hunger. Of desire. The soothing sweetness of satisfying it...
forever fleeting.
It is more our nature to be hungry, than to wallow in sinful contentment.
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