Friday, 05 October 2012

• Freewrite 2

  I get to help you. I was born to help you. I am a helper.

  I can't help this. It is as natural to me as breathing, as necessary as being. I am here. You are here. We are together, I cannot deny that despite the separations you place between us. Despite the silence. I will always be here, is it not a wonder that we feel so eternal, so everlasting, even when full with the proof of our temporal nature. To be born and grow and die, yet we speak to rebirth. To suffer pains of night yet we know the morning comes always, and night again. Our number system is infinite. Our seasons repeat endlessly. Our universe is limitless. We seem to stretch beyond ourselves into a dimension beyond numbering. Yet we are numbers and words, so do we forget so quickly these shadowy syllables are but a vague and abstract silhouette of who we really are? This flesh on bone is a representation. This sun is an image. This moon is a metaphor. We are dying into obscurity for the chance to be known. To know ourselves. We are sacrifice made for those who come after, we are destruction laid in the wake of blame placed on those who came before. We are fruit-pickers, berry-eaters, knowledge-seekers, we are hunters, murderers, gatherers. Thieves. 

  Have you placed us yet? We defy definition, we are the entanglement of all things mirroring itself into the reflection of Narcissus at the moment of his own suicide moments after he scribes the tragic suffering of unrequited love, "what pity that my reflection could never see how beautiful I was."
  
  We are a moment from ropes that measure the length in the distances between us. We are pencils in the stars connecting things that are far, far too far apart to know each other. But this seems right when air and land between us surges some invisible connection between us. Chemicals in my brain, they tell me, create this illusion that you are with me.

  But you are with me. In as much as the thought of you is a part of you, in as much as these hearts beat the same tune, in as much as our blood flows faster to the sound of music, the rise of fear and embarrassment, the blush of compliments. Our faces smile in the same direction. Have you noticed the universal configuration of up and down? How we are gravity bound to this ground and everyone of us dreams at least once of flying?

   

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