By
all signs, portents, personal myths and proclivities, it seems my
choice best to stay with her; whom I have for so long loved. Yet, at
that, it remains a molting, shedding the skin of what was to become,
something else, at least new. Rarely did I mention the drama trauma
to M since it seemed, initially, so futile . . . she then seemed up
to her eyebrows in quick sand and a relationship with a man consuming
her.
With
her now I understand my intuition was correct yet the longing and
love remained across the years. It was and remains innocent of all
sense of possession; the crime we do in love calling it whatever, it
becomes commercial. Subject to the vagaries and darts of legal
vicissitudes. The doings of Kings & Queens, false leaders of
everything.
But
then. What of the children?
I
was a child—once long ago—too well remembering the: ‘do not
speak unless spoken to directly, go away and I’ll find time for you
somewhere or time in the future.’ It never came—that promise.
Yet I made it happen here and now. No. Not I alone; but of several
influences beginning with “TAKE ME WITH YOU!”
Pervading
all that has passed between us beginning (or was it renewed?) not
long ago, there has been this slow dance towards one another,
ineluctable as inevitable as an earthquake
23:15
Familiarity brings depth, a
closer knowing; she too thought of molting; removing the outer skin
to grow larger. Perhaps better described: neither of us is what we
were before but different and becoming more intimate . . . larger
woven into a continuum of a seamless cloth. This world is actually
very small both by comparison with other places in our galaxy and the
entire universe but also my current sense of service. A nurse from
‘our’ hospice visited today and I knew of, but not, her until I
saw her.
Long ago I stood on a
neighboring vacant lot awaiting the dawn arrival of a traveling tent
circus. When I arrived there was a man, bag
in hand, who explained he waited to rejoin them moving along
having tarried there in my town and state for a time. I have held a
sense now realized that we who serve in whatever manor are travelers
not settlers of any given place but always following the need; theirs
and ours to be what we are.
Then
too, there are those of us, stationary, who travel vast distances,
within and without, crossing all time. And for whom time and death
have no meaning and nothing can hold captive.
130531
03:44
For
The Interlocutor. I sense myself able to say yes or no. Knowing that
were it otherwise I would remain addicted to the idea/ideal/idol of
what is good, etc., not subject to decay. There is within any belief
system those who would teach by rote what must be experienced if to
have any value at all above control of the masses.
Reflecting,
retroactively, similar circumstance/opportunities—remembering the
frenzy and being riddled with doubt, I wonder now where the fear
went?
.
. . the thrall that held me captive for most all of my life . . .
while fabulous also filled with suffering and grief. The
latter certain to revisit me and mine since we are spiritual being in
biodegradable packages for now but not forever.
"War
is the science of destruction."
- John S. C. Abbott
.
. . discovered
in this morning’s search for quotes. Of comparable value to Kurt
Vonnegut and his reference to ‘death by mechanical puncture’ . .
. rape of another kind?
Standing
alone in the dark Mary’s robe of stars made dim by dawn smoking
another cigarette, I am fraudulent to suggest that you do no harm,
first to yourself, then another, but that’s me. I am a whore for
words and images that demand my attention, remembering whores perform
a service and politicians, in general seem only to serve themselves.
The most obscene are those who so richly reward themselves at our
expense and then worse, cataclysmic, are those who suggest that
heaven is available only to the children, women and men who destroy
themselves with bombs carried in to the midst of public concourse . .
. but then there is always the terrorism of commercials suggesting
the want of things versus the need of peace and sufficiency.
I
will continue to protest the rape of us, we all, the family of
mankind . . . it is a good time to be crazy
130530
EDT 05:05 molting
©
2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved
