Continuing On

I have life beyond life. I have power beyond power. I have lived and breathed and died a million times more than I could ever write. I have existed with passion and without, through emptiness without thought of loneliness because I spoke fire, breathed soot and tasted the decay of my most precious metal -  my dreams. My thoughts my ideologies, my ambitions, they sputter forward like little ducks, following forth behind an untraceable, unimaginable goose. My mother hen, the subtly and essence of consciousness. The why, the agency, the qui and the quoi. 

Why I love is not the same as who I love. Who is just a passing metaphor, a glimpse at possibility, the what is the deciding factor, an aggregate sum of fate and inevitability. Why I am alive is not a question but an answer to the darkest questions I have ever feared to ask.  To live as an open gate, is to swing forth in the breeze and answer the call of all those winds that pass forth amongst the trees. To be human in the wind, to remain alive in the swaying factoids that push and pull you width wise and side wise, is to hold desperately to the rushing necessity that stems from cradling unborn dreams.  A dead weight is the eye that rests on its still born child. A mannequin of all possibilities. I shake and move and recreate the motions in an effort to spit forth this melonous weight, this heaviness in my belly that begs for life. It demands the sacrifices of a million fires. The heads of a thousand toads and the lonely empty stretching plane of that desolate highway towards selfhood. It’s not about staring into the abyss, it’s about eating the abyss of existential hopelessness for breakfast and asking for seconds. Seconds, seconds, seconds. Fuck you. I’m coming for more. And this time I’ll swallow you whole, because this time I know the score. No need to be an assimilated dot amongst the mist, to understand the process of evaporation. This time I stand as the mountain and let the water rain down. I let the pieces of the ripe tide pass my impenetrable surface and spit them forth a waterfall in the spectrum of light.