Art: Good and Evil by the writer ,poet and printer prophet William Blake
Many things should be tossed into the detritus of our former wreckage, but much of what we let float past us in our lives is that which we should’ve clinged and built a new raft to once more flow asunder towards a vaster horizon ,away from the defined one we know better than to be happy with.
Rather than be verbose I will instead get down to the tacks of brass, whatever that means ( note to self look up that colloquialism) , I feel as my days are slipping through my fingertips, I need to hold onto more moments and experiences, wisdoms imparted, must! or perish foolishly, meet an end unbecoming of my common uncommon lineage.
…”and a rage which gnaws into itself the more it is compelled to shelter itself under the pretense of goodwill.” M. de Mont.
There is much to be done, and much has been done, but how does one go about it? If history is any example then the only way or pattern I’ve noticed is a total lack of patterns , merely artifice, manmade creations accepted as writ by common cultural submittal, unconscious or otherwise, nevertheless it is.
And within it we live, tempestuous the waves of its reaction to us, this harsh reality made more harsh than it is by our laxity in fear and overabundance of glut. Made lazy with acceptance, we moulder over what we should have already done, and do what we should never have, yet there are men who speak of humanism, whom i witness tortured in their own minds, speak of nothing but pain, why i ask would i listen to a fool who wishes to immerse his psyche in merely one aspect of a beingness?
Answer: do not. These are the things one should let pass.
I choose instead freedom in the limitless expanse of memory and present thought, a breathing in of the marrow of music, words, sex, love, my children’s laughter , the melted bronze summer sun, the crucible of change, and the sleeping earth in the depths of nights womb.