This time you waited until everything went away and everyone came back again. Then you spoke quietly about what was real. And all things cold became warm with the sun’s inside turning truth out of the heart of sublime dark gravity.
Why are we hurt by certain things when we know our worth is greater than what has been done to us? Of course this is an eternal question.
We do all of the things. Self-care, work-to-avoid, soothe, distract, etc… & yet the pain never goes. It’s always hurt from things that shouldn’t be of such great consequence which is all the more unnerving.
I mean often of course it is a great trauma, & the depths of grief seem an endless traverse. This, however justifies itself through the healing process, because we know it was significant, such as the death of a parent, for example.
Those things though which are blips in our lives, or perhaps hadn’t much to do with us in terms of how we experience them, how we are treated, they can last for too long, our hearts enduring immeasurable suffering as a result.
I suppose that’s exactly the point, the most meaningless things are the most lingering. We put meaning into something relational or structural, & its eternal return happens to be meaninglessness. That’s very problematic on our bodies.
Perhaps there is nothing emptier than giving meaning to life & having it returned as cold confusion & meaninglessness.
Something stolen like that has to be remade or returned. It has to be taken & reinspired or it has to be reciprocated. One, the other or some. But not none. It wasn’t love meant for me. & broken-hearted, I come to accept this. Let it multiply in quantum even when you […]
If i had one last song to write, I’d follow the story of every wire in the world. Not only what they emit. But what they hear.
After all they are taking all the energy of the earth and transmitting it. To like all over the place. We wish we could move the speed of waves and rays, but maybe that’s just because we aren’t them.
I run out of battery but the world is always on and that’s life’s most meaningful contradiction don’t you think? That everything is finite and infinite at the same time. No one really tells you that. Because they think you won’t believe it. Or what if you do?
We are always beginning and ending again. Always. Every end has a start. Yes. Even an end has a start.
Yet nothing comes around quite the same way. Or else. Nothing would ever change. And change is everything.
That last song it might be the last but once you make a sound, it’s out there. It made things move. It made things change.
Even noise is life. Even noise is life. Not everything can be ordered or timed.
I would follow the trajectory of every last wire on the earth. I would tell every single one of their stories. The energy carriers. The live wires. The ones who had secret messages.