Swearing off love for another. Butter left out overnight when the air conditioner busted the night before. The clay used to craft Adam and the bone to deconstruct him. Women lay beckoning to the floor. “Come home to me, you little whore.” Abominations aside, when did the fish decide to stop drowning and start swimming? I see people accept evolution as blindly as they see people accepting the existence of God. The one problem with that theory is that they don’t see how these people came to a belief in the existence of God in the first place. Would a skeptic even give you the time of day? Could they even hear your story if you opened with the word “God?” Yet you hear a disbeliever say it all the time, “Oh my God.” If only they didn’t know.
Connected to a source beyond you or me or me or you, we see nothing but a dream, sleeping through. The tangible matter of every day touches the senses but to no avail. In the end, we can say we died. But more to follow?
The same old tired expression of exoskeletal fear. We could prolly see where it all comes from and to where it all keeps going, but then again, would we really want to?
Space consumes the mind with words often unkind. A word, the extension of a neuro-thought. Transmission never ending. Which spark is me? If ever the light had possessed a person, then maybe just maybe that person might see.
Darkness. Joy. Blind. Inequity.
I try to forget you yet you refuse to leave.
Chazgoodfellow's Lonely Day 