Absence of Self

Faint lines glow on other faint lines, crossing and canceling. The same surface touches the ground thousands of times, and it still changes with time. Many things are more than they seem, and unfortunately, many things are also less than they seem. The strength, grace, and power of a lion in a man not quite an adult, who you would never look at twice. A pond so small and shallow it can only rival a puddle in a wonderfully beautiful, strong looking woman. If I fall asleep now, I will not wake up later, not truly, but of course the thought does not bother me now: it will only bother me later, when I wish I didn’t fall asleep. Hate that is deep and strong makes me feel superficial and strange. Love that is deep and powerful makes me feel wonderful, like there is no need to hate, not when I have such passion. I’d say I miss the earthquakes but I barely remember them, and they were not startling, not scary. I’m not scared when I go insane: quite the opposite. Going insane is a wonderful, relieving feeling that I don’t have to pretend anymore, don’t have to be fake and silly and strange. Strange is the thought that everyone thinks that they are weird, and out of the ordinary, for doing odd things, like talking to themselves or to others. In the great sphere of humanity, we are all humans, right? Nothing we do will be out of the ordinary, or strange, or weird, because we are all human. Philosophy is the art of painting with black and white, defining lines and borders that we should be quite happy not to cross. I’ll leave you with thoughts of me, wondering whether I am deep or strong or shallow and frail, wondering where I fit into humanity. Because we all must fit, if we are truly human inside. 

Will You Follow Me?

I want to be powerful, but I flicker at the edges if you look closely. No more wanting, anymore. I’m past that. We’re past that. So let’s go into a violent sky, the two of us shining like rival suns. We’ll escape the blackwood prison and break through the stars. Nothing must compare to us. We shall be two points of light in the middle of black matter. You might be scared – I know I am – but don’t worry. I’ll follow you. If you don’t want to nestle in a cradle of comfortable darkness, then we won’t stay. Just don’t worry. So we press on, going into other worlds, other words, other stories and lives. Stay a moment, leave a moment for our memories. We have no choice, now, but to keep going. We’ll find our place, though, don’t worry. Our place just isn’t here. Let’s go for three more millenniums, then try something new. Let’s try going to the light, to the end, to those who shine like we do, to the stars. We dive into the light, and the heat refreshes us, soothes us, and repairs our weary, worn souls. We can’t ever reach the center, we can keep on and on! What a worthy way to spend eternity! Here it comes, away! We’ll start at the middle and see where we want to go from there. You turn back only once in all those years, just once, and your golden eyes meet my silver ones, and you only ask one question.

“Will you follow me?”

Chandelier

Look and see, up close, far away. You are the most impressive sight through my eyes. Up, look up. See? I did it! Just for you! A chandelier hanging from a moody, cloudy sky, textured in ways we’ll never feel. Tactile and visual, sunset is not “only,” but full of infinites. Up and up again! We might have been limited before, because we decided that ends were beautiful, and they were, and they still are, but change doesn’t accept ends as part of itself. Pluck at the gilt strings, I’ll play the black and gold faded ones, and percussion goes on and on. The only place in my heart is the sky, but the sky is infinite, so it’s not a bad problem overall. Let’s align our thoughts with our mindset, and see where it takes us. How bad can it be? Let’s do things, with our beautiful minds. Let’s make it rain inside. Let’s put the ocean in a jar. Let’s fall in love. Because love always fits into the big pictures, right? The ones on the screen? I’ll pull down the tailgate on my old white truck, and we’ll sit a spell and make music and laugh and shoot the breeze with each other and no one else. Let’s be country for a little, then change into city slickers, and laugh at how silly we feel. But really, isn’t this small town better than all the biggest cities? It must be. Do you know why? I do. Because I hung a chandelier, a crystal chandelier, from the cloudy sunset sky.