Hunter

The awkward moments come in the morning, as the sun comes in through
the window, and I become aware of our nakedness. I try to leave the
light on at night as long as possible, before she says to turn it off.
In the dark, an animal feeling comes over me, I feel taken over by a
mystical force. With the light on I am human, and I stop, remember,
who I am and not what I am a part of. I know this is some great
cosmic dance and in the wave of it, I connect to something I know is
always around me. The sadness, the melancholy felt in the morning is
why we are not part of this feeling more often. We like to be
reminded of this genius, through music, art, and the other expressions
of harmony and perfection, though it would be better to be a part of
it. To live it. It may just be what our lives are supposed to be
about.

In the wilderness, with that feeling of hunting, being hunted and
resting when tired, eating when hungry. Some say we would have no
consciousness of it, that such an existence would be no different than
an animal. That we are more than just our instincts, that something
in us, the calculation and reflection lead us to create and make
greatness.

I am constantly swinging between the the two, spirit and the flesh.

She puts on her clothes, slowly. I have seen her do this many times
before. As she quietly combs her hair in the mirror and looks over at
me with a bittersweet smile. I come up to her from behind and feel
her tenderness throughout. Goodbye. Oh, goodbye.

The rest of the days I am alone. I work hard, and spend many nights
reading and thinking about where I come from, where I am going. It
feels like nowhere on the tough nights. I forget why I am here, why I
do this, what the point of anything really is.