& all your carefully thought-out counterpoints crack
under the weight of a thousand tiny ants marching, marching, marching "I can live with this", you say, a last defense but the ants keep marching to the drumbeat of the question "but can you live with this?" I hate killing bugs but when I can't have my takeout box with me for a 50 minute class without it getting swarmed (on more than one occasion) I start to crack a bit. What finally pushed me over was when there was a huge group and no food in sight - Atlas
0 Comments
the lines
say nothing, do nothing, be nothing bounce around my head every time I make a mistake-- saying 'you knew this would happen', 'you knew this wasn't safe' I do my best to lay it to rest but sleep does not come easy. I think the original quote was from Aristotle or something and it's stuck with me FOREVER - Atlas and it does make sense
that my heart stammers at your absence the words I once would have said to you now missing from the rhythm of life's pages. it makes sense because it matters because I chose for it to matter, right from the beginning even when I caught a glimpse of the end. it makes sense for it to matter and it will matter until one day it doesn't matter quite so much, anymore. but I will not wish for these days to end. because this, this matters too - Atlas can you teach me how to let this be enough
how to content myself with this life, with this flickering light I hold in my hands with the time I get to spend with the people I love can you teach me how to love enough and do enough and be enough that I am not afraid of the end but I know that is too much to ask - Atlas I told you a dream,
you told me to remember my limits. I will let you know when I find them when I fill them up so I am constantly brushing against their sides until slowly but surely, they give way to new and ever more imposing challenges. you are welcome to join me if you want or you can watch. it's difficult to explain to someone that I trust myself - Atlas you ask me to tell you the meaning of life
and I say I do not know but look there how that tree catches the light on each of its sweet pink blossoms even as it grows and changes too slowly for our eyes to see. look at the spider as it jumps its way across an iron-woven table leaving silky threads behind that never seem to cross each other twice. look at the bird resting on its branch for just a moment before bursting into flight the soft flapping of wings barely audible over the wind. this is life. and you are alive and though we don't know exactly why life means that these things can happen, that we can watch them happen and do miraculous things of our own. but that is not the answer you were looking for. I cannot crack open the universe like an oyster to give you the knowledge you seek. I can only live a life and tell you what I see. I like some of the imagery in this but it's hard to get my point across without approaching it straightforwardly (which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I think this particular realization is one that works best when it sneaks up on you) - Atlas soon, the last cicada will sing
a song of yearning before gravity pulls him too from the branch he's made his home to join his brethren on the ground his legs locking into a ghastly embrace. dead bugs litter the ground but the trees are still singing - Atlas it is difficult to kill a cactus,
I will admit but it is also difficult to keep a cactus alive once it has decided to die-- everything is too much, too little. all I can do is watch. but I'll keep trying to save it anyway - Atlas when I came here I swore I would not kill spiders
so instead I found ants, an endless supply of ultimately harmless annoyances. I considered calling in an exterminator when I found the spider beneath my desk --the last straw-- because this constant grating living on edge wore down at my ideals more quickly than any sandpaper or naysayer could have hoped to. I am stretched thin now but maybe I can learn to live with my unexpected roommates maybe my ideals will not collapse just yet. it's harder than I thought it would be - Atlas heat comes and goes in waves
it starts in the palms and crawls upwards tongues of fiery blood licking up the forearms towards the chest the heart, the lungs, the stomach I stuck my hands in snow once to alleviate the flames and before I even noticed cold I felt crystals dissolving into water. not really poetic but it was the only thing I could think of - Atlas |
Archives
July 2024
Categories |