Amen, Resistance

In my mind, this morning, I have had a swirling concoction of conflicting tides. A wash of disappointment, a current of resolute love and awe, a wave of desire and a whirlpool of self-loathing... None conclusive.

But, in all of this, there was the voice saying "write, write. step into the pool and let yourself be taken by the water" and, in its shadow, "stay on the shore. don't give yourself over and choose to be dragged under that familiar water." None conclusive, but my body writes.

I think I shall not venture any closer to your misty, foggy, murky pools. Though the mystery compels me, as always, today I am not choosing the disorientation you offer so readily. I am always aware of you, but that pleasurable distortion is too much for me to entertain... Really, I shouldn't.

And I wonder, where does all this water flow to, and where did it originate? Is it flowing over something? How to know...

It's bending, like light around dark matter. And dive as I might, I can never quite reach the object, or even surmise a shape. But I know that it's there, waiting to be discovered. Or not. Perhaps it cares nothing for my soul, existing like a stone in my brain -- neither/nor, but standing in and of itself.

"The Wave and the Rock" Ink on paper, July 2021. High quality prints available for purchase by request. Please contact me using this website's contact page or email me at crossingandromeda@gmail.com

There are many stones such as this. All of them sacred and secret. Perhaps never to be held in a palm, but it isn't as if those stones cared to be held. But I want to hold them, if only I could reach them. If only I could see them. I flow around them, at once the water and the perilous little soul being tossed in the waves, and I wonder if I'll ever slam up against them. Will I become the sacred sacrifice pledged to an unknown deity? I suppose, like that cosmic rock, it hardly matters.