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There is a hole inside me.
It grows larger every day, every hour, every minute,
Consuming all that I am.
I try to fill it, but it is an emptiness that can be filled by only one thing –
Something I desperately lack.
I try to appease it with substitutes, but nothing will suffice.
I hope and pray for what it – and I – need for fulfillment, but fate and God ignore me.
I run from anything that reminds me of its existence, but I forget that it is a part of me and I can never run fast enough to tear it free from myself.
I attempt to deny its existence and distract myself from its pain, but when I stop to rest it consumes me again, never really having left but waiting until I am no longer able to fight it.
And it grows.
Each day it hungers more for what it desperately needs to live, and finding a lack of sustenance it feeds upon my soul instead.
Each day it takes a little more.
Each day the hole grows larger, and I grow more empty.
Each day I die a little more.
I wonder when it was that I passed the point of feeling alive anymore.
Maybe this is the way it has always been.
Perhaps the hole is as imaginary as my dreamworld.

A dreamworld exists in my mind.
It is filled with absolute truth, endless compassion, and unconditional love,
Suffusing my entire being.
I exude its power from my pores, overflowing with radiant goodness and harmony –
Disseminating my bounty.
I share my essence with those around me, and they replenish me.
I give thanks and sing praise for what they – and I – have shared, and I hear a celestial harmony in my mind.
I move forth to share my happiness with others, and the source of my joy accompanies me through eternity.
I consider my fortune and wonder if such ecstasy can last, but then I feel my soulmate embrace me, ready to stand by me with equanimity in hardship or with exuberance in happiness.
And although I cannot fathom more joy, my ardor excels.
Each day it grows more and more, sustaining those around me, and feeding the emptiness of my soul.
Each day it saturates me.
Each day I become more whole and complete.
Each day I live with a fullness previously unimaginable.
I wonder when it was that I doubted if the dreamworld could really exist.
Maybe this is the way it has always been.
Perhaps the dreamworld cannot overcome my solitude.

The solitude surrounds me.
It ebbs and flows with the influence of my supporters, friends, and loves,
Drowning my actuality.
I reach out for these people to create the dreamworld, but their fingers slip from my grasp –
Increasing my isolation.
I seek others to take their place, but none believe in the dreamworld.
I share emotions and relive memories that they – and I – held dear, but the past will not overcome the present or the future.
I search through the peoples of the world, but my desperate hopes and pleas fail to reveal anyone for my salvation.
I try to convince myself that I can succeed on my own, but I miserably fail at every attempt, realizing that I am nothing without my soulmate.
And without my soulmate, the solitude destroys the dreamworld and the hole consumes me completely.
Each day I grow more desperate to find my soulmate, the other half of my existence, and my only chance to be whole.
Each day I fear my failure.
Each day I move further from finding anyone, and I doubt who I am.
Each day I fear life more than death.
I wonder when it was that I lost hope that I would ever find my soulmate.
Maybe this is the way it has always been.
Perhaps it is better to die with the hope of the dreamworld than to live empty never knowing it.


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(W)hole, by Paul Cales, © April 2000