Friday, December 30, 2011

The Startling Dark of Midnight

The pilgrim landscape dusted with snow. The interior fire can sometimes be gray. One walks all morning and all afternoon just to speak with fellow believers. So I declined to play the part of Macbeth, so what?

Lives are altered by our actions hence the need to choose - to decide - carefully. Eschew lawsuits. At times it behooves the hungry soul not to feed itself but simply to observe the terms of its hunger. Sentences, my love, not lines.

We advanced confidently in the direction of our dreams. Decomposition beckoned, lent its shadow to the project. This is what I do and if you don't like it leave me alone. Little crescent moon, what did you think would come of the startling dark of midnight?

Oh but then a cup of tea comes. There are always firsts and they are always repeating themselves. In other words, wake up and allow your dream to interpret you. Remember you?

Remember that night on the fire escape, drinking brandy from a thermos and talking about the apocalypse only we knew was coming? Everything that happened is still happening, if you want to see if that way. The other night, out walking, I was aware of him in the distance - his black frock, his ancient pistols - and felt again - faintly - the powerful desire he wields, the yearning to know our experience, the anger at having once chosen otherwise. One hurls oneself from Heaven, one discovers that eternity is simply the longing to make it back.

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