Mother's Day

Posted on 20 Aug 2001

we walked down the path, but it’s something more profound than i could ever hope to express to you in words. i guess i found it rather amusing, the whole run of it. we walked so fast i couldn’t help but think of flowing. bits of information in a line moving. the eternal flow of energy, matter. but more on what’s the matter later. the trail kind of leaked into my mind, into the flow. old river running dry. silt between our toes. dust to dust. we are this trail of tears, it is us. funny how the colors bleed and mingle, all turning black. and then, bang, you’re out of it. just like THAT. quiet shores where you can’t figure out just how they got there. dust of life turns to mud as the shores recede. thick heavy smell of earth. real earth. one more push, and out into the light. the sound of the edge pushing into your ears, filling you with the long heavy rhythm of the womb. life is pushed and pulled from the abyss. the eternal light and darkness finally reaching an edge that can be defined, can be seen. and yet it’s only a small piece. a tiny view into that infinite eye opening. you’re right, you know. what’s the pursuit of knowledge when you’re faced with that? just a distraction to keep us “interested”. to distract us from the things we fear. or so we’re told. there’s not really much to fear after all. funny little game we play, isn’t it? i’m afraid i’m not much of a team player, though. everyone keeps peaking into their little rule books, but i just keep making mine up as i go along. the tide shifts eventually. takes over those places where we used to play. if the light hadn’t gone out, i’d figure it would just keep coming, take over the whole world. lose us all in the cold that comes sweeping up where even the air is alive. i haven’t quite reintegrated it all yet. i think i still need to expand some. the big bang. like the beginning is anything but the end. if you believe that there’s a difference between the head and the tail. haven’t quite placed you yet, but i’d like to. maybe that’s not even required. maybe none of this is, really. any point of reference is as good as any other. left mother behind to find myself, and we all watched her die in my absence. sorry, mother, this happens. and we’re still little boys with our feet lost in the sand. still trying to find our way home as we lose the light. angelic manifestations. and we’re free. surrounded by plastic and glass and metal, and we’re free. all the chains that bind us, and all the fears we’ve built up, and we’re free.

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