Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Jesus Loves the Druglords

Love. Why can't we love better? What's with all the walls
and territorial thinking that encapsulates North American
culture? Why is it easier to categorize than accept someone?
'To love and serve all'. What a great thought.

Hate. What perpetuates itself most in our society? Why do
freedoms seem so trivial most days when really they are
something to be revelled in and enjoyed? Why do biases
overrule objectivity and a caring heart? Why are we all so
anxious, depressed, elated, and overconfident all at once?

This life is a fragmented view of a whole picture that an essence
of our being looks to and hopes for; it defines our entirety and
our nothingness all in the same breath. We cannot escape it. I
drink coffee and try to relax but it's no use - something tells me
there are things afoot that I cannot stop and that this life will
NOT slow down for any human. I crave the whole picture but
grudgingly accept the incomplete pixelation that appears before
me. My soul longs to be held dear, to be hugged and caressed, to
be told 'it will be alright' and will that to be true.

This is not downwardness - just honesty. Trivial conversations
concerning nothing more than the weather give me slivers of old,
wooden bordeom from ships that have sailed into foggy misanthropic
mists. I long for depth - I cannot be satisfied in this shallow pond.
Though it frightens me to the core, I long to stir up the lake leading
to the sea, hungry for buried treasure covered in lichen and centuries
of oceanic legend. I stand at the deck, my companion, trying to
foresee pink skies to avoid the storms...but it's no use...for the storms
will always come.
With shaky but outstretched arms and extended fingers, I accept the

future. For past without future is less than the equation of reality - it is
sub-reality. To create a time machine would be to live unchallenged
and completely in control with no room for growth or depth.

'So distant sometimes, on an island in your mind, too far away to find...' -matt mays

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