Share your story here
We won’t listen, but all the same
Bare your pain
Or instead bear your shame
Or instead forget the same.
Leave her behind like she’s nothing
Walk away like you’re glad.
It’s not about art
I’m just writing because I’m sad.
It’s as though, sometimes, nothing’s clear. And you are, really, just floating on a passing wind. And though you know not where you’re going, you feel content just to keep on floating. For what is more naturally occurring than the air, which we breathe? And if it is good enough to sustain the human life, why then, should it be any less suitable for traveling?
For what is more naturally-occurring than a fleeting, passing wind?
Actors whelm over yonder plain, by the curve near the entrance. “Oh ye yon dol pon ee kero watts!” “Mar per lou…” and such that one does not hear for they are so far. Over yonder.
Barbarians! Barking mad with their desire to be seen. And heard. They will stop at nothing! There is no law to which they won’t stoop, no low they will not loop. To have you pay attention. To them. Crude and barbaric.
That one should demand attention without craft or finesse! Absolutely revolting. To have another desist from satiating his own desire and learning his true self, to attend to your idiotic whims.
“It’s there, isn’t it, all the while?”
“It, whatever it is. Just sort of there… like…:
“Haha a presence?”
“Well, it’s present er… but no, not quite as imposing. Just sort of… there.”
“You know you’re confusing me, right?”
“Am I? Well how am I being confusing?”
“I think just by speaking.”
“Are you trying to tell me to shut up or something?”
“Well… no… I love listening to you, and hearing you, but you speak and I’m confused.”
“Hmm… well what if I were to sing a song, or read random bits of things?”
“Hmm… Let’s give it a go then. Here, try this.” He hands me a copy of The Divine Comedy. Well then.
I love to be in love, it’s my greatest and gravest weakness. I love to be in love and my heart craves it; my soul burns and my body – nay, my entire being – yearns for it.
What am I to do when the thing for which I ache makes me prey, eh?
Think about it. That the heavens might open up and bestow upon you a gift so specific and tailored to you that in that one singular moment, all your dreams will rely on that one single grasp of the hand, simply to reach out and take it.
But that the heavens should open up and bestow upon you SUCH a gift… There must be cause, mustn’t there? Or the heavens simply are in a bestowing mood which is its own cause in itself.
But when the heavens open up just before your eyes causing such fright and with such terror, what say you, just then? With the very thing you’ve worshipped and prayed to for all your life right before your eyes, what becomes of you then?
Photo Credit: M.V