Men At Heart
“There came upon me what was far more than elation or exhilaration; I was beside myself with an intensity of joy, and with this indescribable and almost unbearable joy came a revelation of the essential goodness of the world. I was convinced past all refutation that men at heart were good, that the evil in them was superficial.” – Sir Francis Younghusband.
To drink deep from some blissful fount. Let me tell you about the wierd and wacky thought that has plagued the lustre of my ambient disposition. On hindsight, the irrevocable, contagious clamber upon what was always so obviously irrational, yet so utterly consuming, is a brutal signature of my savouring a personal hell. I found myself entertaining with incapacitated torment the idea that you cannot enjoy water unless you thirst for it. Silly, I know. But like a snakecharmer, it held me in hypnotic trance. I, of lighthearted luminescence, found myself cold-blooded and sheding layer upon layer of skin, to still remain a snake. All thoughts of cocoons and metamorphasis into butterflies, all hopes of awakening from dreams, tightly bound and strung upon the untouchable arena that is the dark night of the soul.
“…If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss…” – Rudyard Kipling.