It was born in an instant. My sallow skin tearing on the scorched white of my sides. My sickly grimace fuelling a crumbling descent. I tapped a hollow vessel and the echo drove me to tears. I was empty now. I had been so strong, I had survived the storm. But it has taken everything with it.
In my veins I feel a weary pulse. My blood meanders through choice-less currents, it goes only where it has to. It may as well be cold, blue, frozen. It may as well be still. The toxic substance squirts through my body, pushing me on. A sad carcass shocked into reaction. I may stagger upwards, I may even walk. But it is not my will that puts me here.
My mind is still somewhere else, sheltering itself from the horror. It still lives in greens fields and looks into blue eyes. But it has surrounded itself with dust and shadow and grows blackened with the taint of past. I know, the illusion will break. I hope it that it will not take my mind with it.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The Desert
And that's where I am now. My life is the desert, an infinitely vast cloud of dust and empty space. I don't know a way out, I'm not fully sure how I got here.
Was it some failing on my part, did I make the trees die? Have I not really moved and I am where I was before, its nature simply changed. Its nature merely decayed. They teach us in school that's how deserts start, over use, greed. Am I surrounded by nothingness formed by my own hand, did I do something wrong?
There is something to be said though, the calmness I feel now. The emptiness, this open space has no expectations, I have nothing forced on me. I form to my own expectations now, or at least am moved to wonder what exactly they are. Give a man a direction and he will march in it, whether it serves him or not. Deprive a man of any direction and then he must think, truly. Who is he?
So who am I? Hasn't that been the question this whole time, from the very beginning. From that moment I had a something click in my mind, from that moment my desires extended beyond my immediate survival. It's the question that hasn't been answered, even after so much marching.
Where there is emptiness, there is hope. My life is like a desert but that is only for now. There is the ability to contain, there is the ability to nurture. There is something unmoving beneath the sand.
Was it some failing on my part, did I make the trees die? Have I not really moved and I am where I was before, its nature simply changed. Its nature merely decayed. They teach us in school that's how deserts start, over use, greed. Am I surrounded by nothingness formed by my own hand, did I do something wrong?
There is something to be said though, the calmness I feel now. The emptiness, this open space has no expectations, I have nothing forced on me. I form to my own expectations now, or at least am moved to wonder what exactly they are. Give a man a direction and he will march in it, whether it serves him or not. Deprive a man of any direction and then he must think, truly. Who is he?
So who am I? Hasn't that been the question this whole time, from the very beginning. From that moment I had a something click in my mind, from that moment my desires extended beyond my immediate survival. It's the question that hasn't been answered, even after so much marching.
Where there is emptiness, there is hope. My life is like a desert but that is only for now. There is the ability to contain, there is the ability to nurture. There is something unmoving beneath the sand.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)