ST54 ... The tombs of babylon weep for us.
a vortex forming to take us beyond ourselves
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If it were not for you, how would i survive? The tombs of babylon weep for us. We are so united against the light, even the tall shimmer of distant digital ships caress this state. I refuse to apologize for being misunderstood, nothing much to loose, no secrets to conceal but i do apologize for being abrupt, out of content of the night, insensitive to the delicate nature of self love. I am myself and have hardly broken out of the egg of discontent for being here, in these times, in this modern world of existential despair. It is of no great barrier to see the differences between us, you on one side protecting your worth and me dangling in the winds of mad emptiness.
I saw the torment in your eyes and i could have stopped, crumpled to your hideous conclusions but there was an energy that kept sweeping over me, watch this protection caress its nature with any reality available, strike out, hold back, fall short on the curbs of fear……for this, a depth too deep to pursue, here. This is not the moment to confront dark worlds. That must be done alone, sincere, surrendering…………big mystery have pity on us, we are such fragile broken creatures.
I stumbled out into the night with my dark glasses and my black hat. I could have been from the nineteenth century, hidden in the back corner of some saloon of a mid west, watching the stranglers, the cowboys in their big hats and rusted jeans, but i wasn't, i was here, modern times, sailboats crossing the desserts of the sea, still, against a shadow of mechanical thought moving into the crevices of the world. These were the times whispered about eons ago, these are the end games being played out everywhere and we are holding onto our blankets as a crutch.
They just want to find me, pin me down, analyze me till I'm dead to them. The sunrise still climbs high into the heavens even when you're fast asleep, paralyzed from head to toe….. that's the way the world turns….fast…than slow.
This happened and then that happened, these are the facts. They came straight thru from the best of sources, the ones you know are true. I'm not even questioning anymore…..all my reactions are robotic, i can't stop myself, i need a break……no i can't die, there is much too much that must be done.. 'gt over it fella, there are more souls waitin to get in'.
I could write novels about the pale conclusions sitting in data banks, rows and rows along long narrow corridors of stacks and stacks of paper bound into evidence for so much, so many fields of discovery, so many horizons of more. We, us humans have accumulated reasons for everything, including nothingness, the mystery. We have come to the ends of our perspectives. The edge is facing us on all corners, the inwards vortex is forming to take us beyond ourselves. There is a void one must enter to exit. No one knows its end. Tonight is curving into itself. I have found a way out. The endless sleep, the torment of the day will fall, the beauty that awaits you at the gate, love slipping up between the sheets is tearing you apart… dreams are beginning to dream. The end is nearer, sweeter, more of less as you disappear slowly and begin to end softly.
The Departure
‘Your story is missing words’, a sweet damsel said, ‘invisible sentences, unexpected paragraphs absent, in fact whole lost chapters, sequels, volumes avoiding existence. Your book is vague, no purpose, meaningless, silly little ventures for nothing. The story ends where it begins, in the weary swamps of time, a road extinct, a path over grown with shattered words, letters floating off into morning light, sounds harmonizing with the wind, you have gone beyond me, i can't see you anymore’.
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WeyWord Times / All Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Series of Photo Work in Progress…. Moments in Bent Time
Hang Me Up Somewhere…. View Images Here
This writing takes me to many places in my heart and mind. For the rest of the week, your words remain.
Thanks, Pat