Vachon Imagined

“I think I will,” he says.
And in that moment, desire moves.

Will becomes a lure.
A dangling promise.
A future self always slightly out of reach.

“I want” begins to repeat itself.
Not as passing weather, but as identity.

Desire stops arriving and departing.
It starts behaving like permanence.

Unexamined, it accumulates momentum.
Each thought a turn toward more wanting.

The “I” becomes the axis.
And everything orbits it.

But the “I” is not stable.
It is shaped by desire, then mistaken for its owner.

When desire rules unchecked, the self multiplies.
When it is witnessed, it loosens.

Not suppressed. Not denied.
Tempered.

And in that tempering, something else appears.
Not force. Not control.

A quieter intelligence.
Older than wanting.

Older than time.