In sympathy of "need"...
Is it that we need too much, or that we do not understand our need?
I needed acceptance, to be understood by the many, to share the best of me and have it valued justly. (With age... comes nothing but the additive of time, and has no inherent value if collected alone.) Yet with contemplation, I see that all now as merely want. Need is a much simpler cloth, of very few threads.
I write because I must, because in such moments I lose all sense of self, and become whole. (As if the construct of "self" itself, somehow hindered that rare feeling of awe when one truly understands themselves to be a very small part, of a much grander whole; a part the infinite.) I must share what little I manage, because it feels wrong for me not to; as if the world would somehow be lesser without it. I think, in the pursuit of art, understanding and acceptance are folly, and should never be sought out right.
The problem is that people confuse need for want, and think happiness equals purpose. Happiness is a word we learned in times before any concept of regret, before the shortages of princes and princesses were apparent. A word of the moment, only of now, when the future was only fiction. Like love, it is a word too easily shared, and often only expresses a muddled perversion of truth. As I think on it, as years pass by and I come to understand the meaningfully dear, it is not happiness I seek, but purpose.
Then again; what chance have we when souls of the city wanting happiness, seek out paradise, only to find the souls of Eden think them too needy?
I think in the end, it will always be a simple matter of eye; a matter of perception.
