Cranberry Sauce

You are the highest of highs You are the reward of my toil You are the untouchable You are the insurmountable You are unprotected, and thus indestructible You are the epitome of the human spirit Yet you're only human That's what makes you supreme You are the promise land... the dream destination... You're always the goal, yet always unattained You're the light at the end of the tunnel Always in sight, but always far away If only I could have you... I would be redeemed of my sins I would be immortal I would be alive........ If only I could. You're the frail beauty that perishes when possessed But I would never know You're the angel's voice in despair that I have never heard You're my saviour, my guiding spirit The twilight of eternal youth The elixir of life So I'd like to believe You're the love of my life You're a figment of my imagination I'm trapped in...

I was about to write something stupid but thought against it. Metacognitive as I always am, I am aware now that my feelings might merely be a projection of a conscious reflection arising out of the superimposition of years of environmental conditioning, social structure and human evolution. In essence, I might just be constructing a reality that is made essentially out of nothing. But yet, these fictional realities sometimes overlap, sometimes coincide between two or more people, resulting in consensus. Consensus doesn’t necessitate correctness, it merely represents reinforcement arriving from mutual acceptance. The consented matter might be grounded in reality, or floating in delusion, yet for the consenting believers, that's all that matters. That is true, that is uncontested, that is given.  In a sense, by the very nature of human incompetence of arriving at an absolute, only the relative can be consented on. And so, every act of consented conviction must probably arise, to som...