On Fallen Apples…
I came here again
Probably because there isn’t really anything else I know how to do
When that panging warp of energy drags my body down into itself
Beckoning me back to my beginnings
or more to the point,
Demanding that I attend to something
I’ve been avoiding or assuming daily life or other relationships
Won’t let me get to…
As if I don’t have the ability or the time to prioritize the only real gift I have,
which is observation.
But what does it really mean to observe?
What are we really able to do with our known senses,
and do we ever really pay attention?
What do we truly remember?
The Enlightenment surely helped us out of pure dogma
wedded to serfdom,
because we had no other choices
when kings controlled all resources
and spiritual life was the only solidification
of freedom,
the first code switching of the imperiled masses.
But we are stuck in a purgatory of Newtonian landscapes,
as if 18th century physics had any moral application to begin with.
The only moral framework worth displaying
is to reject charisma for facts
Because without real dedication to factual occurences
Anything is possible
and everyone is expendable.
But we also do not know what to believe
and who to become.
That should be a freeing revelation,
because freedom also brings terror;
Terror of not knowing what any particular path will bring
and choosing it consciously anyway
knowing that you may look around 30 years later
and find yourself
and your surroundings
totally unrecognizeable…
Or you can stay in the same place for 30 years
and remain intimately familiar
with what you’ve always known
But with the first large rain
Larger than you’ve ever experienced
or a marching brigade
of foreign people
You now are confronted
with unrecognizable circumstances
and you’re too old to pivot
and too crystalized
to overcome 30 years
of known methods
and you don’t know how to begin
what isn’t known to be true
from the 20 others around you.
All of us have to learn how to begin again sometimes…
…Becoming
Becoming
Becoming…
Retribution is only for the petrified soul or the decimated revolutionary spirit.
Those that seak power and punish the oppressed are ossified
In contempt for themselves,
Because to do that is to be totally and violentally at war
With what you can recognize in another’s eyes
And the dignity worth fighting for
You can only deliberately snuff out life
If you hate your own
And want everyone else to feel the same
Because you can’t imagine anyone else
Truly can feel different than you do
As the lonliest person around
Getting help
(for these people)
is holding leverage over others
The only way to connect
That must be hell
But it doesn’t mean we should have to live in it.
Inevitability is only for the Gods and the decrepit in spirit
Mortal struggles are the divine nature we were borne to engage in
We are the test of where Nature goes.
Don’t sit back.
That wouldn’t be any fun.