An intimate monologue

Why do we all seek you?
Why do we even think
you exist?

Is it the limits of human experience
that even the most euphoric sensations
become dimmed
often repeated

When we seek that ultimate pleasure
that everlasting orgasm
is it you we seek -
Is this what they mean
you exist inside us

are you that forever sensation
that humming in our heads
that changes shapes as we touch
that defies the understanding
we so much desire -
could you be that toy
for those who have reached the limits
spend eternity playing with

Is your existence a manifestation
of that same desire -
an entity with no explanation,
no beginning, no end
so abstract as to be tangible
so real that you are virtual

Is it ironic, then
industries flourish
in your name,
and most that ply your business
seek you the least -
they do marvel sometimes,
I think,
how the idea of your being
has held sway forever,
making love and war
rising humans above themselves
so that some see
the devil in others
and some see
only angels,
some feel exalted
some humiliated betrayed
some feel above all life
some feel the purity of life's vision
has been tainted by your ink -
some think all is the same,
more good has brought more evil
the circle has never been broken
that we have always lived in illusion and shall live forever in maya

most shall think about you
and in exasperation,
follow those who think they
know you,
and some shall always seek
among a bizarre muddle of nerves,
sensations, comprehension tissue,
consciousness and unconsciousness,
the root of the tree
that bears you.