What
is left becomes a question while all is left.
But so
designed for despair!
It is critical to
live, to exist, to soar.
I’ve been low
these days with reason to repress while close enough to become uneasy.
Much is asked of
us—those mosaic tiles—those personal wrenches; so equipped to answer or so
inclined to ignore it insomuch as present, insensitive, or detached.
Many
know avenues in such a way as to touch from afar; so tapered or aesthetic
curtains where veils are sold for souls; our days at concerns our lives but
motion while something strange interrogates the land; our pumping hearts our pudgy
palms our haven hells; if but those reasons as made clear to society insomuch
as to agree with sunshine; but days are at needs, evidence is so shallow, where
a person can put together a deductive argument; no need for validity,
especially, where the argument is filled with emotion; indeed, so illogical, to
use mathematics, in order to endorse emotion; but weblike fire or deep dark
dreams where it was good while ignorant!
—so intimate those
weeks so secluded those hours while something was measured; this calm
acceptance this lazy investigation where a few were ecstatic; such doubt in
errors or such wisdom in doubts wherefore wisdom is found through errors; our
caves fraught by fears or fears fraught by clarity wherefore clarity is more
caves; those familiar anxieties, where nakedness is not love, but an ingredient
of love; our repurchased aspiration, our auctioned ambition, if but close
enough to extract something vital; this web of prescience this curse casted
while one is too scientific to doubt; our reputations, our screaming integrity,
where something offsets us—
if more to reason
than more to fogginess where clouds and blackdamp filter divinity; such
banished creatures, so born this juncture, so accused at birth; for once it was
life, this nonstop investigation, while reading treatises and tomes; such fire
in describing God, such force in adding something new, while we argue against
pragmatism; our epistemic denouncements, our metaphysic certainties, while
humans have difficulty with clarity; our broken abilities, where one becomes
gifted, as to perish a lonely legacy—
Many
know energy, these privileged machines, while we admire their elasticity.
—so
far into willingness so close to more suppression where one discerns we can take
more: I must be honest: this is both infuriating and insidious; but what has a
man but his scars and visions while attracted to something most people exploit—
