Maybe, there is no reason
(Note: A few weeks ago, I was asked why I choose to be alone -- to live without a companion. My initial response was the words which are printed here. It is not a complete answer, because I am not sure there can be a definitive answer. I do keep thinking about an answer, and I have a few more thoughts which will emerge at some point in the future. A short response might have been: Why does anyone do anything? The lyrics from, "A Whiter Shade of Pale," keep echoing in my mind. There is no reason.)
I do not know if I am missing something within me which most people have, or if I have something extra within me which most people do not have.
I do know Robert Louis Stevenson was absolutely right when he wrote, "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." The battle between good and evil rages on in all men and, probably, in all women, too. To have been Jesus Christ, I think, was very easy. Most of us wish we could cure heartaches and illness and poverty. Some of us (maybe, even many of us), would die to accomplish it.
To die for a reason, for a cause, I think is not too difficult. Too live without a reason or a cause is what truly is difficult. At least, it is to me.
I have said in posts and to individuals that for the past few years I have had no hopes, no dreams, no goals. Why this is, I am not certain. I also have said in posts and to individuals that by the time I was twenty-five I had experienced everything a person can experience in one form or another. Since then, life has been repetition and variation.
I know there is nothing left to experience here in this life except death, and I have a great curiosity about it. Possibly, I have yet to experience great and true love. There are women I would have died to protect or to save, but that is simply the way I am and never because I thought any of them would mourn me longer than a year or two later.
I want a companion who is unique and unlike all others because she needs nothing or no one, but is willing to share her heart and her soul because it is her intellectual choice, her decision to do so.
I want a companion who has control over physical fear and will watch my back, just as I watch her back. To me, that is equality.
These things I have said in posts and to individuals, and my mind is beginning to wander. The last line here is that I search, and I hope I will know what I search for when I find it.
Now, about the book in the photograph
No, I did not write this book -- "Marbles of Pearl." It was published in 2010 by a friend. I did not learn of its existence until the last weeks of 2011. It is a book of poetry.
If the name of the author sounds familiar, it probably should. Bruce Wayne. Think for a moment. If you do not get it, think about it again tomorrow.
Of course, it is not the author's actual name. It is a pen name, a pseudonym. As a side note, there are clues to my identity within this book, although that certainly is not of relevance.
The reason I just learned of the book is because I am a traveler. I have lived in many times in my mind, and in many places in reality. I move. I roam. I follow the rivers. I leave friends of the hour behind and find new ones. Sometimes, one from the past tracks me down and we communicate -- for a while, at least. This was the case of Bruce Wayne. We worked together once upon a time. He found me because he wanted me to read his poetry. This guy is almost as strange as I am in terms of living life beyond conventional patterns.
Anyway .... find a copy of "Marbles of Pearl" if you are able and curious (I hope you are always curious), read it, measure the dedications of the poems against your own knowledge and the quality of the poetry against the songs your own mind sings. You might have a revelation. You might discover if you are a lemming or a wolf.