knowledge

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing and all of those who think they have knowledge realize that it collapses on itself.  Because meaning is deferred I cannot reach the point of contemplation.  I feel as though mean people determine the status of what is true, like that militant philosophy professor in college.  When it comes to that point of fear, the fear that engulfs my body and mind or my whole consciousness, I realize meaning is determined by humans.  It is this understanding of meaning and knowledge which, though I know it is a fallacy, makes the assertion that the powerful determine what I know, and how I come to know what I know.  But that flash of power just over my shoulder reminds me otherwise.  I make meaning, though it is differed, I cannot escape that responsibility and that necessary step each day.  I have not determined how much the power on the horizon just over my shoulder, which I can never reach and informs my fears; that jolt assures me of something I do not know but it is there.

Hope is not evident, fear is reality, knowledge is only as powerful as I make it. Something tells me that that which is behind me is the most powerful, but is experienced only as fleeting.   It is irritating not to be able to put my finger near truth of any kind.  I acknowledge that when I am in a situation that affects my mortality, it is not as strong as the fleeting.  When I get the feeling that I have been here before, I think of Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence, and then I wonder, almost daydream.  Denuded dreams of days past become the knowledge I have.  Wonder is elementary and the only certainty, I think.