This is my first post in about a week because of my six-day work week and all my free time spent either with my girlfriend or working on the prospects of writing a Holy Book. I have a poetic introduction to this (most serious joke) book in the works which I will eventually post, but in the meantime this is a piece I did last year that I will post for the sake of saving this blog from lapsing into a full on coma.
“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall”
During epiphanies of disinterest with the self.
Something there is, in moments of clarity,
That doesn’t love the big blinding barricades
Constructed from the bricks of right or wrong,
This way or that, A or B, true or false…
Stones of perceived mathematical objectivity.
Language is the foreman of such mental masonry.
When courage is gathered to climb over these walls,
Leaving behind one’s Humpty Dumpty fears,
The ego erodes to uncover the bottom layer:
A layer deeper than the crust of character and
Even deeper than the mantle of one’s mannerisms;
Down to the pineal core where one finds that
“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.”