rainwolfkin

empty

she screams at the top of her lungs: i'm whole i'm body i'm heart i'm mind i'm soul

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i stopped being an artist a long time ago.

i don't think it was because i didn't have anything to say. i think it was because i realized that you didn't care. sometimes you pretended to, but like many things that you revealed to me, it was a facade.

i first acquired the word 'facade' and assimilated it into my vocabulary many years ago when reading about cathedrals. i thought facades were breath-takingly beautiful. they were untouchable. angels splayed across the tympanum. pictures in story books of knights and kings, heroism and divinity.

you were never as excited as i was about the rich history of cathedrals. years later, i saw notre dame for the first time. when i think about that event of my life i still get excitement in my belly. it was like the earth on this side of the planet had an excess of something that i had been searching for - a history not present in the blank-slate landscape of my childhood. later i realized that this meaning i attach to history and monument is just another form of escapism.

i stopped being an artist because i lost someone from my life once who noticed when my heart skipped beats, when my belly stung with excitement about grandeur, when i spiritually felt someone's presence - some validation of life in general - some all encompassing swell of pure experience overwhelming my ability to abstract intellectually...

i loved without words. without abstraction. with silence. with all the silence that resides at the axis mundi of all non-being.

and then i stopped being.

maybe that explains why it's still so silent in my world. maybe that explains why i didn't say anything when i saw notre dame's facade.

i'm sorry for all the things i've never shared with you.

i still think facades are beautiful. breath-taking.

and i'm sorry that i could never make myself into a facade for you. i'm sorry for failing to take your breath away.