Talk can be poison. Be the silent, comfortable self you are with the friend(s) you love. Some say it is golden, I say it is: bliss.
Last night I had dinner on the cliff, on the beach. The tide was high and the mist, on my face. I trembled numbly as I wore two coats. It was so damn beautiful. Pelicans crossed the yet to be, black sky, in rows consecutively. So swift. So dreamy. It’s my place to soul cleanse. Peaceful.
I write with no light. I test my blindness and xoxo’s for writing, I trust in being absolute.
We talked about love. She said, “I can’t wait for you to fall in love, I cannot wait for the day.”
I’m a hopeless romantic, yet, I don’t give two squats about relationships. Well, not now at least. I do not “need” someone. I speak for myself, not this generation. Why, of course, there are beautiful people everywhere you bring presence to. Every single being is wondrous in their own, individual ways. Each mysterious. I speak simply, surreal. Life has so many priorities. Things just happen. I do what I love, what brings happiness and passion, what brings emotion and laughter, with results of learning how to smile, learning the meaning beneath uncovered knowledge, within things we do not speak, which we do not think. Basically, I’m never really looking. I mean, I’m watching. But not staring. That’s just creepy. I'm listening. I’m note taking, in my head. I'm given examples on what not to do, what not to be. Or perhaps I’m writing about you, precisely strangers. The way he gave off energy, the way she doesn’t mind and politely goes her way. She’s just in the moment, focused, and letting be. She’s a business woman.
I’m a hopeless romantic, yet, I don’t give two squats about relationships. Well, not now at least. I do not “need” someone. I speak for myself, not this generation. Why, of course, there are beautiful people everywhere you bring presence to. Every single being is wondrous in their own, individual ways. Each mysterious. I speak simply, surreal. Life has so many priorities. Things just happen. I do what I love, what brings happiness and passion, what brings emotion and laughter, with results of learning how to smile, learning the meaning beneath uncovered knowledge, within things we do not speak, which we do not think. Basically, I’m never really looking. I mean, I’m watching. But not staring. That’s just creepy. I'm listening. I’m note taking, in my head. I'm given examples on what not to do, what not to be. Or perhaps I’m writing about you, precisely strangers. The way he gave off energy, the way she doesn’t mind and politely goes her way. She’s just in the moment, focused, and letting be. She’s a business woman.
We didn’t just talk about love, we talked about the universe. And I’ll be damned. I spent my mind at the book store hanging around the Science shelves. Realism, and captured time, and bio and chem and Darwinism and so much more, it will not end. It just won’t. There are too many questions we have to ponder in and out of these cells, only so much to grasp, only so much frustration, only so many years left on our pores of skin. Infinite. Only so many, but more than enough. More than we can conquer. Only one Earth. Only one you. You’ve got a name, child, make it yours.
No comments:
Post a Comment