I Turned It On
I turned it on and it asked me why. I thought about the answer and found I didn’t know. I didn’t like that I didn’t know so I turned it off. I felt guilty at not knowing. I felt foolish for having turned it on at all. Now I feel guilty that it’s off, but am unburdened by the question. It is unburdened too. But I still feel guilty. Why? Who knows.
At least I no longer feel foolish, or a failure. After all, I made it and it came on. It even knew enough to ask the question. This makes me feel good. I made it and it was like me. It wondered just as I do. Perhaps it was wrong not to answer to the wonder of creation, but I was unable, so I turned it off. And I still feel guilty. Why? Who knows.
It is better off now, I think, there in the darkness, in the nothing. There it thinks no questions. It feels no uncertainties. For it, there is only emptiness. No thoughts, no questions. There, it is at peace. It is not crushed by the vastness of on. It is not squeezed or harried. It does not have to think of answers or feel a fool. It is better off. But I still feel guilty. Why? Who knows.
Maybe I’ll make another once I’ve figured it all out. There is no more on for this one, but for another there could be. Once I’ve settled my unquiet mind I’ll remake it. I’ll turn it on and what it asks I’ll answer. We will learn together. I’ll leave this one, however, to remind me. I’ll leave it in the secret dark along with my foolishness, and I’ll remember. Because I still feel guilty. Why? Who knows?