Sunday, December 8, 2019

Letters to the Unknown (Eunoia)

The sun announced itself, godlike and golden. Flakes of snow sail past the window unhurried. The view from this window is that of timelessness; without a technological contraption or any man-made material object in sight. There are just naked trees in deep slumber, dreaming.

I fall through pages of political chaos and corruption. I fall through fruitless conversations and semantics, irreconcilable -isms, and political half-truths. I don't think I have anything to give to such. I see fascism, intolerance, even hatred. I see the other side of the isle succumbing into a totalitarian fever dream. I see both ends of the spectrum attempting to force a model of what to think and how to live on me. No, you don't get to do that. I see here reenacting and evoking something that should remain unearthed. The demons of yesteryear, that is. I see terrible oversimplification of multifaceted issues.

And, I feel it again. The ghosts of dolphins, the needle, the twin lakes, and the white water.  







No comments: