fragilekeys

What sets one off and what keeps one going would be two different things. A third different thing would be the final “reason” for it all (which would remain forever deferred from consciousness, forever without fulfillment, due to the very nature of this “reason”: namely, that once you’ve articulated a reason, you’ve exhausted it and already made it necessary to go beyond it). Let me explicate or experiment with these assertions a bit.

One sets off from the raw experience of suffering and joy, and the question to understand their source. This is to begin to understand the very source of the world: to understand the source of the world’s suffering; thereby, to understand the role of joy. (The intersection? Tragic peace.) Continue reading →

To consider entering as a forgetting, an entering prerequisite on forgetting. Entering and forgetting: equal grounds for lucidity, equal goads of excitement.

What makes us capable of a fresh start? Isn’t it the impulse to speak as we’d never spoken before, act as we’d never acted before, believe as we’d never believed before? Isn’t it the attractiveness of what overpowers our past and our willingness to forget it? (Remember, no forgetting is for good; what really exists returns inevitably…)

What could it be to forget our being in a way that allowed us to surmount what it once was? What would it mean to ‘await myself as I awaited another’? And wouldn’t this be like standing before death, that one chance we have of forgetting ourselves one-hundred percent? (Even then, of course, we are no where near being forgotten…) Continue reading →

who wouldn’t want a clearer path through the future?

what time does to us: takes us away and away. must be our choice to go up or out, because we are going away.

all of them are still alive. those i’ve pushed away. those who by my shyness fade away from my reality to assume permanent positions in memory. i miss each so dearly. what is a death in the family, if a friend stays alive and is lost? what is loss, if not of a living loved one? too many hands i fear will never be held again, and i frighten at the prospect of any of you ever being alone. this world is not made for separatist isolation, but this is where age is leading our generation. we’ve drifted; we are drifting. years ago, we made promises to ourselves. we promised to love for all time. and it isn’t the promise that will die—always in all ways will we love each one of us until the end of time. but will we see one another? will it play out as it did years ago in our dreams?

the demon is allowance. letting that fall away. showing each other the door out, totally inadvertently.

we won’t ever mean to leave each other, even if it ever happens. i know you know.

each of you. each of you who’re falling away. especially you. listen and believe my cry of apology, my regrets over the inevitability of our drifting apart. all of us drifting spatially and through time. i believe if we’ve come this far, we’ve got much farther to go; that drifting apart now may constitute/cause a drifting towards in the future. but if not, know one thing: that not a word could tell you how much that past mattered, not a word could convey the love that might come pouring out of my dying chest at you as you wept. i’m convinced i’ll die before this love is exhausted—how could there be any other way. and yet! believe that the love never dies! even at the edge of the end of the world, with the guitars screaming in minor keys, the strings playing slow harmonies, and me singing at the top of my dying voice, screaming to make you believe, screaming to keep you knowing even after my last breath that i loved you with every part of my heart.

but my body, my mind: they didn’t always know how to handle it (your love, my loving you). not only might i have failed to love you well, each of you, but i have failed myself. i admit to not knowing how to even love myself sometimes—how could i love you as i want to, as i know you deserve? the love you deserve more than me, because you recognized it as beyond either of us, beyond our bodies.

soul’s are in love, aren’t they? and that’s not stopping, not for a second. “soulmates never die.” so if my body falls away before i could show you how much it meant, how much it means now, how much it even means to my future though i’ve no clue of where it heads—know that it meant the world.

nothing else even means a thing…

so that even if my words are never heard, here they were spoken and meant. so that even in heaven i’ll know this love is never spent. so that tomorrow you won’t be gone. so that you know your being gone is an impossibility. so that you know love, even if left behind, is always there, thriving on the past shared, dreaming up the future existence of our each day being there.

i’ll pull through if you take your time. we’ll pull through if we take
our time. we’re pulling through. and right now, i know exactly why i miss you, and only wait to list the ways so you could hear them. i know why i miss you. we’re pulling through. someday’s just not yet. i
love you, always in all ways, you.