Everyday navigating through an intricate jungle in my head takes me on emotional boat rides where turquoise monkeys and purple koalas sing me songs that are vaguely familiar.
Today my body drove me to the bookstore where I surfaced through sections on poetry, travel, philosophy, art, and fiction. Amazing it was… making me realize the amount of knowledge I yearn to absorb and never will. But even more so, it dawned on me how remarkable and abundant substantive writing is these days. People doing what they generously must do are quite admirable. Making their way between speeding distractions and vile impulses, the sculptors of these books were given conceptual valuables to share and express. And so they did.
I’m feeling rather poetic today, considering poems of Jorge Luis Borges and Pablo Neruda traveled home with me just hours ago and are now residing in my room to be stroked and spun. In honor of this mood, I’ll share some words I wrote:
(Sidenote: Due to the fact I can't single space separate lines when pressing "enter", I decided to post this piece in paragraph form. Oh, and I don't write these very often...)
Zebras at Lunch
Your attachment to imagination both destroys and creates toys that take you on first-time train rides into mirrors.
Gold doesn’t bring smiles or vials of pleasure, for the weather will remain bleak and brutal if we chase treasure and not ourselves. For better these days are too short to follow anything less than a steady pace and gentle nature.
There’s only so much I can say, Who wants to be rich and live in the suburbs these days? I’m over here having lunch with my fears. You are not alone… and you will walk if you wish, for we all exist on the other side so when the world ends we will burn with life.
Now toss me in a boat floating in a paper bag and let it fall softly off a cliff near my bathtub in the sky. Ask the zebras if I die. The ticking clock will tell them Everything, while the answer slips away slowly into Infinity.
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