August 26, 2017 § Leave a comment
The waters seem lifeless, with an unmoving surface the color of an olive's skin. No breeze, and only the occasional drone of a fat horsefly.
Maybe a frog's chirrup, a time or two.
A skipped stone makes waves, but the stone sinks and the ripples fade. Did it feel the flat pebble's staccato kisses? Does it feel the wasp sipping from its surface? Does it feel the heat of the noonday sun, or the chill caress of moon's silver light?
Perhaps this hole in the earth feels not, and holds no life; nothing swims or wriggles and crawls beneath its apathetic face. Maybe it's nothing more than a reservoir of the clouds' tears, tinted by sour mud and algae.
Or perhaps the depths roil; passionate creatures twist and dance together, or hunt and devour each other, or race for the sheer joy of speed and competition. Perhaps treasure waits to be found, or ancient mines tick toward detonation.
Perhaps here be monsters.
The water may settle and clear, in time. Until then, what lies beneath the stillness can only be guessed.
August 10, 2017 § Leave a comment
I’m an atheist, and I don’t believe in the supernatural. No afterlife, no ghosts, no gods or devils, heavens or hells. I trust science, and so far, science has found no evidence that there’s something after death. Just darkness and silence.
And yet sometimes — sometimes — something happens that makes me wonder, just for a moment, if maybe there is an undiscovered country. « Read the rest of this entry »
August 5, 2017 § Leave a comment
The walls have thorns. The paths are full of sharp stones. The leaves beneath your feet have been trodden black by millions who have come before you.
Weren’t you just here? You are not prepared for this. You never are.
Pick a path. Start walking.
Get out of the bed. Take a shower. Brush your teeth. Brush your hair.
Always turn right. Isn’t that what they say to do? Or is it left?
Take your pills and fight to keep them down. Pack something bland for lunch. Half a sandwich, perhaps.
If it’s dark, look to the moon. If she hasn’t been hung yet, find a sprinkle of stardust.
Make a list. Start at the top. Check things off, one by one by one.
The bees will bring you honeyed memories. Each one will sting. They’ll be the only treasures you’ll find here.
Listen to classical music, and let the waves of it wash over you. Waltz in the blue Danube.
Is there a way out this time? You can’t see it. You may never find it. Keep moving.
Call your mom.
If you find a bottle of sweet wine, speak to it of nothings.
Chew gum; it keeps you from clenching your teeth.
Comfort the small creatures and let them comfort you.
Sleep, if you can. When you can.
Sing a song to greet the dawn. One of the old ones. One of the sad ones.
Keep walking. Keep turning right. Or is it left?