Not knowing

 I often do not know what to say, or how to act or when to love and when to get down during war. The questions puzzle me, the answers puzzle me more. There is a fine line between bliss and agony, and that line is called eternity. I breathe inside eternity, and so do you. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, only naivete survives and everything else blackens into thick memories. I am flooded with cheap experiences and quiet blissful moments, yet I lack what every other human being lacks. I lack the patience of a monk, I lack the alacrity of a swindler, I lack everything divine and everything evil. I lack stillness yet I am overwhelmed with it, I lack the inner flow yet I am a river in its final course, I lack you yet I sense your presence before and after every sleep, I lack sounds but I also lack silences - while the machine converts everything into either you or nothing.