our modern world
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Tuesday, May 02, 2006
I always envisioned myself to be on top of the world. I let my face kiss the gushes of wind that trip on my skin. Spreading out my arms, greeting the embrace of demure lights flashing here and there. Here is now. I'm not giving up. No I'm not. Are you sure? Definitely? I can still feel the tremendous exhilaration of my conquest. I never dared to peer down. I'm afraid of heights, and I guess I'll just fall down. Sure of this, sure of that. I'm settled, this is it. Come on altitude, fall on me, and let me fall down on you. But falling down is the true realization of rising. I have come to know this, once, when I was amongst the clouds, but then had to experience the tolls of the bear earth. Looking at the clouds was nothing more but a mere, short pleasure. And so, until days end, I found no stars. This made me sad, until I got used to seeing none each passing tormenting night. None. None. Blank. Blank. Black. Black. But these pleasures last short, until again, the demonic darkness eats up the innocent clouds into oblivion, leaving nothing but a faint memory of...
Falling down to that, I am not used to. It's called reality, planet earth. Beep-beep.
Seeing that there is a decrease in the abundance of stars, quickly, I fled. I didn't have to travel far to once again witness the majestic glory of the sterling glow of stars. Simply, that's how it is. A vision. An end-goal, true satisfaction lies in the amount of painful toil invested. I then think about the once altitude I used to hold above the norms of what I have now. Now, I am here. Toiling the bear earth, a task which I used to view from a distance miles below my standpoint, my once pillar. I got used to the daily tasks, at which, it requires sweat, hard-work and labor. To kill time, or help pass it, I crawl, as a lifeless entity looking for abandoned gas stations. We were waiting to be stolen and taken to a far off land, where we will suffer, get whipped, tortured... Weirdly, as if, conveniently by cue, there sounds a radio (same as the one from the abandoned gas station), playing broken tunes of my favorite band, who else, oasis. Cause all of. fading away. not to worry. Someday. what you need. On your way. Stop crying your. Beat down notes that sing an endless chant of...
In the darkness of my confinements lay a mess. Scattered all over were pamphlets and leaflets of torn propaganda that once spoke of freedom, truth and justice. I'm giving up all of me, everything. I'm giving it up. One step. First step. Pride shattered into a thousand pieces. Seeing a reflection of myself in each shard of glass. Seeing my eyes pierce through the darkness of that, I hold within me. I see spots in the overhead light. Black, round, square, triangle spots. Everything, even that, which seems most important. But is not really. I let go. I'm letting go. One step. Second step. Half steps, long, enduring. But holding out to a circular bob of glass. It's dark. I'm blind. I think I've lain myself in a long sleep. When I dream of broken down houses, with me upon the roof, looking over a vast plain of grass, I stand. I remain in place, winds turning spiral, into a wild hurricane, lampposts swaying, cracking into the sky, forming thunderbolts. I remain standing. The rocks burying themselves on the ground, splitting the muddy soil, opening an endless hole. I can see everything from here too. I once was from above, now I'm below, and everything still opens up, like it used to, I'm ready to embrace all this, drown myself in these calamities. I'm ready. And yet, amidst the chaos, I'm standing, in wait of...
of...
the stars. Are. Try. We'll see them. Take. And be. Heart out.
Broken tunes always sang better than fixed ones.
"there is a wall that ruuuns right through me"- kreuzberg, bloc party
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