Slaves to the Moment (Vertigo...go)

In prosperity we were subjugated to the rhythm of experience; memories dehydrated and observations consumed. The magic and freedom of the now felt so sacred in contrast to all the other joyous and forgotten triumphs of what might be referred to as the life we've lived. It seemed that this cluster fuck of insoluble and impossibly detached moments in space and in time were now pulled to the surface, vibrating in chorus by the light of the moon.

Some would have wanted to collect these shards of having had, to eternally 'be' in the circumstances they reflectively deified. The others choose to instead dance among these swinging wind chimes of fates past, rippling on the waves of their momentum. We gyrate in this vacuum of realizations and reaction; its never coming back, its never slowing forward.

The heart's gave up their blood as sacrifice, the words fell like balloons in rebellion against gravity. The LOVE found symbiosis and ate away my resistance to being more than an individual perspective lost in the tempest of such gorgeous and supple intelligences.

 

The thoughts ripped me in, fighting: 'I broke forth into the night with the grasp of a clever bear in the skin of my temple. A smile met the darkness of lights spinning circles, the stars rocked like an infant on a mother's bosom. By default I was open palmed, soul exposed behind thick glass so that you can watch me feed it.'

It was given, received, and multiplied. Rebirth reborn into the womb of consciousness, it floated onward...

Oh, there can be no conclusion to such introductions. I am there now, and may never have been. I reach forth into the night and grasp only this paint-splattered apartment that is so blank in contrast to this symbol-bound keyboard. The letters jump between the emptiness to tell you the lies of the past and the truth of the future.

And only one thought cannot disintegrate solemnly in recollection; I love you.