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Apr. 29th, 2011
(no subject)
Apr. 29th, 2011 10:44 pmWe blow past what travels at the speed of time unerringly:
Mere everything.
I'm not one of those who lament that: grab a hunk of everything and pull yourself back, it's easy enough.
Everything's a ladder down and back.
And try to avoid it it pulls you back in by itself.
I have no understanding of nirvana past what all achieve a thousand times a day.
We land a while, but soon our legs circle one another like wrestlers, we sight a distance and blow away.
Nothing's our speed but each other.
And ourselves when we find ways to leave marks of our blowings that themselves blow.
Marks made from mere everything:
From the parts that blow after us some as we speed up past time.
Mere everything.
I'm not one of those who lament that: grab a hunk of everything and pull yourself back, it's easy enough.
Everything's a ladder down and back.
And try to avoid it it pulls you back in by itself.
I have no understanding of nirvana past what all achieve a thousand times a day.
We land a while, but soon our legs circle one another like wrestlers, we sight a distance and blow away.
Nothing's our speed but each other.
And ourselves when we find ways to leave marks of our blowings that themselves blow.
Marks made from mere everything:
From the parts that blow after us some as we speed up past time.