# The Impossible Path

**Published by:** [A hunt for peace](https://paragraph.com/@a-hunt-for-peace/)
**Published on:** 2023-01-08
**URL:** https://paragraph.com/@a-hunt-for-peace/the-impossible-path

## Content

A man sit’s up on his chair tonight after another failed day, another failed experiment looking for peace. He’s heard the unshakeable words that Buddha and Jesus did not meditate, that they were not lost in thought and effortlessly in love etc etc etc. But he is not. He is not wealthy, talented or compassionate. Even if his smile is more special than others, there is enough abuse of the specialty for false satisfaction, for manipulation, to have made him a disgrace. Made worse by the fact that, that nothing came of it. He’s still jobless and has no motivation to find one, or the fans to fund his life of art, or the courage to commit to one. Just enough time in the day to fantasise and masturbate, to women, the past, unmet dreams or other’s perfection. Yet he writes. And the moment before he begins, he really feels he has some thoughts worth sharing. He really feels as though he’s on the tip, to ultimate perfection. He really does feel like the potential has not gone, he’s just not motivated to try what has already failed for others, schools of though, religion and what not. He’s without family and often basks in the freedom this provides, the sweet delight of silence as far as his village will allow. Free of the ache of wondering when your child will next eat and for how long he’ll smile. Yet he’s always pushing to end this too, even though he has heard for years there is no joy in this, he still goes for it. A minds desperate attempt to lasso all his issues together and solve it all with one perfect honeymoon fuck. But clearly if there is such thing as a perfect … honeymoon, then this occurs when the man or the woman has already found that thing. Independent satisfaction, from gold and whores, from family and Christ. He smiles at his last few words, is it the mind’s hope that he may one day get paid for this effort. Or was it in their sublimeness…. As monkeys hop from still trees to still trees, running and screaming hoping to not be torn limb from limb, like curious Geoff, the monkey who got too close to the Chimpanzee. The lion stands in the desert tonight. Alone or with his pride, young, bold, scarred or in old age, ready to be hyena meat some day. Even if he was to die without blood shed and an achy back, what would it all have been for? A man, sits in the cold, dragon breath from his mouth. Not quite hating his day like he did in the office and in fact feeling quite alright about it, other than the fear of some day having to give it all up and return to his bondage.

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