I think Carlos Fuentes said similar first: It is neither the best nor the worst, Just some sudden unquenchable thirst. So who is knowing (something is or could be)? I can see: I am this eye; this eye I am. Sometimes blind, I don't give a glory damn. I have no nose except a moment, a sorta hell; I have no memory nor even dream of smell. I may be following the wrong incense into hell. Except that is much more than I accept: I am a lost wriggling worm crossing concrete. It is no chosen path, nor measurement based on math. Tomorrow is just a swirl of sky we do not see. Who cares? I care. It is always you and me. I will find tomorrow at the fair: watch me. Let us not look toward, nor tempt the cards. Let us coast yesterday toward a morrow. If we do our daily chores and whistle and wake again and again in joy we can finish the beginning of Fuentes' epistles. You and I can find a direction forward.
March 01, 2020
I am this; This I am
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment