13 Jan 2006

There are times when your planets converge, line up in a beneficent gravity. Pain, for a moment… there is a certain forgetting of such things, for in that moment, all there is is the certainty of now. Life is pure being, not too say it is bliss, or even delight… it is the peace of having gotten this far without having crawled out of your skin (for there were times you wanted to — though exactly when that was, you can’t quite place). It is to say that none of it matters, though it is not meaningless, for a hovering of one’s responsibilities is not their elimination: it is merely “what may be, let it”. And then… Your planets are still in motion, you realize, and the gravity turns ever so slowly askew; the alignment splays from its place. The sanity, however, as if it remembers itself — it was an ambient breath of clear, the eye in a hurricane of smoke.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

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