The Hunger The Hunger gnaws away at the edges of my heart . . . soul . . . mind . . . I can't tell the difference anymore. I lay awake watching moon shadows creep across dark walls far into the wee hours and yet for all the myriad of thoughts none touch upon the core of my Hunger. My lover lies warm beside me yet I find no solace there. It would not matter who lay beside me or loved me, for no earthly emotion quenches the Hunger's fire. No earthly language adequately describes the anguish generated by the Hunger. It cries out in the cold winter night, lifting its pained howl to a deaf universe. I cannot evoke mundane attachments, viewing my surroundings as though they are not real but merely a mirage to pacify my human senses. The Hunger, that gray shapeless beast within me, can see it for what it is, this reality . . . an illusion of comfort. Family and friends continue their lives while I observe through objective eyes. Some are enlightened, most are not. And so I create masks to hide the empty space within. I sit in a bookstore cafe and watch others take part in frozen moments of their timeline. The traffic outside is but a miniscule segment on a vast map of ordered chaos and random energy that covers this world we call 'Earth'. To simplify, to focus, to remove oneself from it all - alas, doesn't work in my quest to starve the beast. Solitude seems to create an echo of its cry that drives me back to civilization to continue my quest. The Eternal Pendulum of the Timeless Clock in the Universal Watchtower swings back and forth . . . back and forth. It makes me restless and discontent with myself, my environment, others in my life. Even the emotionally based term 'love' eats at my mind like an alien parasite. The term is too simple, yet encompasses too much. All embracing, yet narrow-minded. 'Love' multi-tasks, yet is singular in its involvement. It causes me endless nagging controversy with lovers who need it as much as the blood in their veins. 'Love' seems to take on an individual life of its own for each needful person who conforms it to their own desires, heedless of their partner's intentions and words. The Hunger comes from within, yet from a source far removed, emanating from the deepest recesses of Space and Time, seeking fulfillment. It is not sated by any physical earthly pleasure or torment. It is not sated by divinity, knowledge or experience. My earthly preconceived ideals only serve to confuse and create paradoxes. All of my life's patterns seem to inhibit the Quest. I am in 'the Dark Night of my soul'. . . my soul . . . in a metamorphosis. . . the Alchemist's transmutation. I am being refined. Within my dreams and waking visions there is a guiding hand feeding the Hunger and like a starving waif I devour the knowledge and developments which are forthcoming at last. Since I was a small child I have waited and watched and now, half a century later have been granted reprieve! I must bid farewell to some who are seeking yet slothful, those who yield only for their own self-gratification, their insecurities. I am now standing astride the abyss, suspended between realms like the Hanged Man. I wait with unconditional love for the next step along the Path of Synchronicity leading me to the ultimate answer I have sought for so long through so many lives. Ramona L. Bryans aka Shaelin Magras Kiraveso 2005