Thursday, April 29, 2021

Not even Thirsty

That is just another experience you had, since refined as narrative, and cherished because who doesn't love a good story in which they're the protagonist. Waking at 2 a.m. to cats fighting outside, that specific terror, and not falling back to sleep. Dishes in the sink I promised to wash but didn't. 

There is something in surrender, letting go, in no longer insisting on what must matter but what. Stuck in traffic on the Coolidge Bridge, that old nightmare. Intimations prevalent in starlight: we are not alone, have been here before, are loved and loving, et cetera.

The patience of oxen. Who arrives does not arrive as a consequence of virtue but of physics (see, e.g., Navier-Stokes equations). Threads, biological and otherwise, frayed and otherwise. 

And wish the way could be released? Speaking is always a means of forgetting: remember this. Seek and ye shall find and what ye shall find is what will leave you empty and fragmented forever.   

Stillness anyway. Over and over leaving the Divine for little sips at the profane river of the world and I am not even thirsty! Old letters from Dan in Paris, Denise outside Albany, all my loves always. 

It means I am scared of what happens when I finally do leave. Forever Sean? It is not always about psychology but also, we are never free from psychology.   

Into the abyss then. Into others. 

No comments:

Post a Comment