Once, Just Once

I am touching the air.

And everything around it.

The wistful breeze of the world’s untamed breath chills me,

chills my bones through and through.

I can feel the gaze of those things

crawling and brawling with untamed ferocity

as though their razor sharp thoughts tethered to mine

pull me down the canyon

into the unknown below.

 

Here we find the untapped skeleton,

the unseen ghosts of the primordial mind;

and the air that I breathe,

the air that I touch,

caresses my fingertips and flays the remaining scraps from those forgotten bones.

 

Once,

Once I stood atop a tall mountain

peacefully,

I touched the wind, and the wind only touched me back,

and nothing more.

But now I,

skinless, fleshless,

sitting here in the gulch

as the tethers pull away at my senses,

and the brawling things scratch at my bones,

and stab at the purity I brought with me.

They know where I have been.

They know, and so they relent

but only for now.

 

Soon the air again will blow me yet further than ever before;

as it is well-known that a delicate breeze will topple mountains

after dynamite has been set off.

And I am a stick of dynamite .

It is no matter of whether it will blow,

but when the fuse will reach the powder,

and crack away at the great rock wall above.

Then as I grasp at the air around me.

Choking,

choking for breath,

it will then topple over me.

 

The brawling things

will dig my fragmented bones out from the rubble.

And if they can reassemble the pieces properly,

they will set me up atop the hills again,

and hope that their violent urge to decimate one another

will leave me untouched.

Once,

just once,

we pray and hope together that the tethers will be broken.

And the fight will leave me in peace

to look down at the valley below

and see only its beauty,

the form of the ravine as it flows into the horizon,

and I will breathe.

And when I touch the air.

it will touch me back,

and once, just once,

do nothing more.

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Concerning Fate

Sometimes we find ourselves in situations that we can’t escape from. Everything worked out in exactly the right way that we’re forced to act. And we have only one option. We have to do one particular thing, we don’t get to choose. That’s called a nexus point, I think.

Take us for example: you walked off the bus and into that store. I saw you buy that book. That book. Of all books I don’t know why it had to be that book. But that’s the one you chose.  God and the Heavens or whatever personification of the universe that you prefer to believe in put you and that book there. Ganesh, I don’t know. Whoever you think controls the Universe. That’s who put that book in your hand and told me to follow you.

I had a choice, and I chose to listen to his call. I followed you. I chose to get into your house and when you picked up that knife, you chose to stab me. We don’t always get a say, chum.  We may find ourselves at a nexus point here, my friend. I’m bleeding out on your floor. You’re not going to call the police because now you’ve killed someone. You have no choice but to dispose of the body. I have no choice but to let it all happen. Don’t worry though, if God forced us into this, surely in all his wisdom he won’t punish either of us. I mean, it was all part of his plan, right?

So please don’t be sloppy when you get rid of me. I don’t want you to lose control of the situation and have no say in what happens to you next.