Understanding

So it is with a strange new underlying perception that I begin writing. Never before have I written with any regard as to who may see my words, nor will I begin to do so now. It would make my writing an exercise in futility. I do wonder though if any small glimmering of understanding can be gleaned from that which I write when my thoughts are wandering through the vast universe of a soul that sees so far beyond that which confronts its everyday predilections. Would he even have the patience or the versatility required to unravel the intricate threads of a mind born of decades of familiarity and forebearence, of inwardness and observation, patience and perspicacity. The careless yet exacting brush strokes of a portrait painted by thoughts that catch a wind that cannot be held in the confines of a world as small as what we choose to call our reality. I doubt that ever there will come a soul that will find me on this winding path. I content myself with moments spent at a cross roads. Moments when someones eyes are open just enough to see even a part of what even I cannot comprehend. That is a rare and radiant connection, but to have someone searching me out...? To imagine another soul trying desperately to catch a glimpse of...me? It is a concept that draws some trepidation, though no less awe to me. Strange it may be, yet is it not what every soul wishes? To be understood? In the absence of that to at least know that another truly wants to understand? I hold little hope that anyone else will ever truly comprehend my thoughts and dreams, the full extent of my emotions and my world. But mayhap even a small amount of understanding could go quite a long way. I think I will try this challenge. Though I will still write as if, as always, it was just me.