We can't even fly. We lie. In graves and to faces. The human fault, the invention of lying, that divides us as a people and serves to us our greatest wrongs; the prevention of dying, making us seek false hope and tightening our grasp on a reality that requires letting go.
Yet within this whirlwind world, we lose touch with those that we swear were just by our side. We wake up and have pushed away our tightest companions, we stop dazing and realize the hand we're holding is cold and the reason is that the fire went out.
And we can't even appreciate the things that we're given. Flying past us like billions of grains of sand, without appreciation, go faces, phenomenons, scapes and skylines. We make marvels that rival wonders we can't fathom, and achieve feats of excellence normally reserved for God himself.
But isn't it God, after all? Can't it be? A series of events set in motion, a provider of chance, setting boundaries — is what I'm thinking. Not like some President, making executive decisions based on the will of his people. No, no. Maybe some experimental expedition into interaction (as you may know, this God would have very little if not for creation) of different life forms.
Ha, God: the original scientist.
There is no awakening. There is no enlightening. There is no vision to miss out on. The vision is what you perceive before you die. That's all the epiphany you have time for. If you, friend, find what it is we are all supposed to be looking for, consider that you're on your own, and that I am looking for something entirely different.
Be tolerant. Be accepting. Be good. Be within bounds. Be true to your urges and respect your inhibitions. Fight for nothing. Work for everything. Don't take; acquire. Don't destroy; build. Don't take; reallocate. The world hums along a line and you buzz all about it. But you don't dare cut it. For if you cut it,
--Eliot Sill
this is weird and moody.
ReplyDeleteWell, I don't know what it means, but it reads like a poem.
ReplyDelete