Undercurrents

In 12 hours or so, another day begins. Fate drags a sleeping body from bed, clothes it, and spits it out into the world to do what survival requires. No thought is required any longer; this just happens.

One day, though, a thought may appear. Thoughts change things. Screaming threnodies split the sound barrier for what was and could've been. Electrons fire a circuit forcing photons to emit from the figurative lamp floating above.

From thence, a new path emerges. Eroding through life, flowing like the river of inevitability probing points of least resistance in search of the sea of forever, change pushes out. Not necessarily forward, but away.

Grass is Cut, Again

I don't care. Consciousness searches for a little happiness, but the brain just won't let it be. Something's missing. Education, religion, work and play, everything brings a transient state with an expiration date signaled by dissatisfaction and leading, eventually, to dread.

Sappy words won't fill the gas tank. Time needs a different kind of fuel. Satisfaction is a steep grade and takes too much energy.

It's like you studied for the wrong test. The test for which you prepared was administered yesterday. You got a zero, and you'll fail the test you're taking today.

Take that seat at the head of the class; humility will find you. It'll drag you down to the point where anything going up looks good. You'll wear the crown as monarch of an ash pile.

Don't Go Outside

A Wake for Sleep

Through the curtains, sheer into the evening, light from a darkening sky shyly peeks between leaves in trees outside, allowing only little pale blue splotches to shine through the fabric. Reassurances that the day still has time, and that night has yet to come, fade like those illuminated patterns on drapes. Skin recomposes on the body of memories triggered by shapes in the shadows. As today dies outside, yesterday rises.

Across the mud and dirt ruts that pass for a road, grass grows black. The distance disappears. Unresolved thoughts, as all melds into shades of gray, massage a cool comfort for tired toes imagining touching the dark, dewy ground.

Hierophant

Released

There's already been a paradigm shift. Reality requires a reset from time to time. The off-track train truck has to be straightened before it derails the whole train.

Silver linings are sometimes the last thing you'd think about when losing something. Then, maybe many years later, you realize the silver lining was something absolutely necessary. Those thoughts are bittersweet, but such an unavoidable part of life.

Failure is fleeting. Success is, as well. Resigning yourself to the realization that those are but the undulations of life's respiration is a comforting release.

Drawing on Memories

Trying to make sense of the seeming chaos will send sane minds to the other side. It's no wonder why the wrong drawings scribble themselves on the brain's whiteboard. There's never enough artwork.

Come on Home

People feel comfortable in their own world. They don't want to be in yours, much less in reality. They're just as convinced that their world is real as you are that it isn't.

You know all the rules, except that you don't, and you're wrong. The main rule is that there aren't any set rules. Convenience is stronger than physics.

Even though there's a place to lay your head, it's not home. It took so long to make my skin my home. You need to go home.