YOU ARE THE MASTER-MIND

At an undocumented moment in the windy halls of your memory, the dark flower bloomed and with it came the insatiable thirst to be recognized. To be recognized like a single familiar word in a foreign novel floating to the surface from the chaos. Instinctively and intimately you hold it to your heart. In the same way you, a lonely satellite falling through your beautiful trajectory, long to be recognized by some distant observer whose telescope was made only to find you. You walk through the crowds gathering on the street romancing the strangers who happen to look your way. Your thoughts shine as you look back in their direction, beckoning, "Do you recognize me?" Strangers become lovers and then strangers again, and in your disappointment you feel more lost than ever. You are a lonely satellite with nothing to orbit and unable to see that no telescope can penetrate the walls of your well-worn heart. There is no observer clever enough to disarm your heart's defenses without the master-mind that created them.