Frozen Salts(letter to myself)

Belief can be so difficult to summon from inside of oneself... Or perhaps that is faith. Hmm, it must be faith, because belief is easily created and subsequently misappropriated by fallible minds in order to suit less than holy purposes. Yes, faith is not belief. Faith is purer, and devoid of the stringent and often convolutedly irrational complexities made necessary by belief. Yet I tend to marry the two, my intellect weaving a haphazard system of belief around my faith, a periodically amending it by any number of required loopholes. Loopholes that I can more easily dismiss, or casually overlook, when I am frantically involved with earth-oriented matters. I find it easiest to submit to faith when I am reveling in the cold and desolate dejection of earthly disappointment. And so in a paradoxical way, the pain pertaining to this world, that I am so loathe to suffer whilst suffering, is literally craved for when matters of the 'now' have settled somewhat, and my existential fears for human life in relation to eternity return. In this sense my mind knows only suffering, was borne both into and from suffering, and can't seem to do without it.

What if you were to go? I'm trapped in a selfish place right now, and the part of me that has made of you a god can't bear to contemplate godlessness. I'm frightened for you, for myself and for us all, but faith will return to quell my fears once again, won't it? May I feel it in its straight, raw power, without the need to make a story line? In other circumstances, I might say that feeling without thought is a pastime as dangerous as thinking without feeling, but not in reference to faith. Thinking without feeling is always dangerous, but one is permitted to feel without thought when it comes to faith, because for the most part, coupling thought with faith merely dirties the latter, spawning a confused, destructive (no matter how well-meaning) creation named Belief.

We're in the midst of an encroaching curtain of rain, but we are not we, and are instead snowflakes falling to earth, which is our target destination. Earth is the "Nirvana" we are hoping to reach, and the raindrops are representative of the 'others'. Externally, we appear to be colder and tougher than the rest, but it is ironically them, in their unsuspectingly innocent guise of sameness, who are capable of willfully destroying us. We are fragile, falling softly and tentatively, as the horde unthinkingly proceed to mindless destruction. They would readily engulf us, and you too acknowledged that they would consume us either way; we could melt into and merge with them, thus sacrificing ourselves to their cause, or refuse to join them and be sacrificed. But we are all falling to our deaths.