Ignoring the Instinct.

I am all in a quandary. I have a strong sense that keeps stepping out from wherever senses reside and nudging my mind, a sense that somebody out there wants to talk to me urgently but feels constrained from so doing.

‘Ah,’ I hear you say, ‘it is but wish fulfilment come to pass. It is all illusion born of the need to say what should be said for both your sakes and for the sake of enlightenment. You merely seek the excuse to excise the dream. It is a foolish sense that must be ignored.’

And the muse of sanity which sometimes engages with me is moved to agree, for senses are not to be trusted. And so ignore it I do, but still it persists.