unsticking from the frozen pole
The words that I grasped and tore at the air for the other night still illude me. But I believe that the "why" of such is coming to light. Albeit slower than my tired gooey head cares to think about.I can see shadows of the these words/concepts in the mirror, and until I can either focus the lens or let go of it all together--will my pieces huddle together and conspire to create the message I want share. The problem is...truth, or perhaps honesty. Honesty with my own memories of events. The tickle is there and my subject matter the shadow that holds the feather. But is the shadow me? Or the woman I buried in 2002, with a spade and black dirt?
blank
The brain plays tricks on me. And I refuse in my fatigue to play it's game. But only cuz it hurts. A pale vacant pain that frustrates until I slumber the few short hours I muster.
I SHOULD go to bed...But I want an hour or two to celebrate my promotion. A token one for now, but it means that the days of interacting with 300-800 individual energies are over. Now, instead of interacting with kilowatt after kilowatt, I can watch the arc, looking for potential as I view a whole and slip down another hole.
posted by iSirkus @ 11:55 PM
Comments: 1
